


Misunderstandings, Rings, and Magic

by thenerdyindividual



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Battle, Canon Era, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Kissing, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 03, Quests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27621008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenerdyindividual/pseuds/thenerdyindividual
Summary: Merlin is tasked by a druid with a mysterious quest to retrieve a ring that give people unimaginable power, only the great Emrys is able to wield it without using its powers for destruction. He requests time off from Arthur with a quick lie, and is told to take a knight with him. The only problem? Lancelot is out on patrol. So Merlin goes with the knight least likely to freak out about his magic, Gwaine. Somehow, that choice makes Arthur think the two of them are courting, and they decide to keep that cover story in place. For reasons.
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 132
Kudos: 518
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, Merlin





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anarchycox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/gifts).



# Part 1: The Quest

Chapter 1

“Alright, Merlin?” Ellen calls from her little stand.

Merlin pauses in his perusal of the spice stand next door, and he grins at her. Ellen, an old woman known by everyone in the lower town to make the best pies in Camelot, had taken a shine to him shortly after he first arrived in the city. Apparently she took one look at his scrawny frame and trouble making ways, and decided she needed a seventh grandchild. He makes it a habit to stop by her stall whenever he comes through the lower town, and she always appreciates the company. If he times it right, she usually sneaks him a pie still warm from the oven for him to munch on for lunch. 

He temporarily abandons his quest for dried chamomile, and wanders over to join her. Gaius has been waiting for chamomile for days, a few more minutes won’t make much of a difference, and he enjoys Ellen fussing over him. It reminds him a bit of his mother. He makes a mental note to go visit her soon.

“I’m well,” Merlin responds easily, “How are things here?”

“More of the same.” Ellen says, waving one wrinkled hand in front of her face, “Lettie still fancies that butcher’s boy from down the way, but still refuses to request time to spend with him no matter how many flowers he brings her.”

“Any chance Robert is going to pluck up the courage to ask Arthur to take him on as a knight hopeful?”

Ellen rolls her eyes, “He doesn’t think the King will allow it. No amount of pointing out that the King married a maid and knighted commoners, and values their opinions highest will convince him to give it a chance. He won’t even let me ask you to put in a good word—”

“I would if I saw him fight.” Merlin interjects.

Ellen smiles affectionately at him and pats his cheek, “I know that. Everyone knows the king values your opinion the highest of them all. Joined at the hip the two of you. Frankly, I think he’s just scared he won’t measure up.”

“He could still ask to be a squire.”

“No point in fussing over it if he won’t help himself,” Ellen says sagely, “Now what were you out here for?”

“Chamomile for Gaius.”

Ellen perks up at the mention of Gaius’s name, and ducks down with a little huff of breath at the stiffness of her back. She comes up holding a vial, and she presses it into Merlin’s hand. “Make sure he gets that back will you? It did wonders for easing my joints, but I’ve run out.”

Merlin pockets it, “Of course I will.”

“Such a good lad,” Ellen says, “I’m giving you a pork pie.”

Merlin opens his mouth to protest, like he always does, but Ellen holds up a finger to silence him. She wraps one of the pies in some waxed fabric, and hands it over. Merlin accepts it and slides it into his pocket alongside the vial. He’ll eat it later when he has a brief break between attending Arthur at council, and rushing off to prepare Arthur’s armor.

“You do know the castle feeds me.” Merlin points out.

Ellen shakes her head again, sending a few grey hairs frizzing from underneath her grey head wrap, “Not enough. You’re all skin and bones. You tell our king if he doesn’t start feeding you properly, I will come after him with my spoon.”

Merlin huffs a little laugh, “I believe you.”

“As you should,” Ellen says then waves her hands at him, “Go on then. I’ve kept you too long young man.”

Merlin listens to her command, and returns to the stand next door. He purchases the amount of chamomile that Gaius needs, and slides it into the medical satchel Gaius asks him to carry. When he asked why he couldn’t just keep the returned vials in the bag with all the other supplies, Gaius had gone on about cross contamination that Merlin was late bringing Arthur dinner.

He steps away from the stall, pauses to wave at Ellen one last time, and begins his trek back to the castle. The day is warm and sunny. People bustle about their chores, and it reminds Merlin of a beehive. Each person has their specific duty, and they all work in tandem to make sure those tasks can be completed. The castle feels much the same way, but in such a big place he can make it all the way to Arthur’s chambers and only encounter an occasional guard. This is much more closely packed.

He rounds the corner into an alley, intent on taking the short cut that takes him passed the Rising Sun, when a familiar ringing echoes inside his head. He hisses a little at the sudden onslaught of noise.

_Emrys._ the voice calls.

Merlin opens his eyes, and glances around the alley, looking for someone out of place, not that anyone looks exactly in place in an alley. He spots a hooded figure just ahead of him, their cloak is drawn close about their person, trying to hide. Merlin has a feeling that that is who he is looking for. 

He walks over as casually as he can. He’s gotten good at seeming unsuspicious over the years, perfected the art of talking to someone without looking like that’s where he’s headed. He stops a few feet away, and pretends to be doing up a buckle on his boot. He looks up at the druid from under his lashes. He can make out spindly fingers, and a pointy chin.

_It’s not safe in Camelot._

_Then you know I would not have come if I did not think it was vital._

_Tell me what’s going on._

_The location of an item of great power has been discovered. We need your help to keep it safe. If it falls into the wrong hands it could mean the end of everything._

Merlin tries very hard not to roll his eyes. He learned his lesson with the Cup of Life. He is not at all suited to being the protector of magical items of great importance. He can clean up their mess just fine when everything goes wrong, but preventing things from going wrong to begin with is not his strength. If Iseldir were anyone other than a druid, there is no doubt in Merlin’s mind that he’d be missing his head at the moment.

_I can’t help. I’m sorry._

_Please, Emrys. We need you._

_Why don’t you go get it yourself? My plans are always a half-baked disaster on top of half-baked disaster._

_The druids are peaceful people, we do not war, but that does not mean that we can remain untempted by the power the ring possesses. We are also concerned that you may encounter the Lady Morgana for she will surely seek it, and we have not the strength to fight her.  
You are the closest thing we have to a neutral party. You do not seek to expand your own power, and you have proved many times over that you are good at resisting temptation. Please, Emrys, we rely on you._

Merlin sighs, and straightens up. Bringing Morgana into this mess is a low blow, and no doubt this druid knows it, but he can’t leave them to be hurt by her. _How long do I have?_

He swears he can see the hint of a smile from within the darkness of the hood. _The Lady Morgana has not yet learned of its location so you have many weeks yet. It lies over the border into Essetir in the caves of the old dragons._

_What am I looking for?_

_The Ring of the Silver Dragon. It was created by the first Dragon Lord._

_Let me guess,_ Merlin thinks with all the irritation he can muster and sounding suspiciously like Arthur as he does, _Only a Dragon Lord is capable of retrieving it without great peril._

_It was one of the many reasons I have listed that makes you most qualified to go. Anyone powerful enough may use it, but only a Dragon Lord may keep it safe._

_Fine. I’ll help._ Merlin thinks bitterly as he stands up.

_Thank you, Emrys. The Old Religion owes you much._

If Merlin had a crown for every time a druid said something about the debt of the Old Religion, he’d be as rich as Arthur. Hell he’d have enough gold that the Old Religion’s debt would probably be more than paid for. He’s known for years now that the Old Religion does not operate that way. No matter how he sacrifices in service to it or Arthur, he will just have to go on sacrificing. Some days that knowledge threatens to crush him under its weight. 

He continues his walk down the alley, and as he passes by the druid, they reach out and squeeze his wrist gratefully. This is why he keeps making foolish promises; because it is the right thing to do. He’s spent so much time around Arthur that some of their talks of nobility must have sunk in because it’s like he is physically incapable of turning those away that truly need his help.

He walks back to Gaius, and his irritation must show on is face because fellow servants who normally offer him a friendly hello whenever he walks by instead offer him a polite nod. He never regrets helping Arthur, even if he isn’t always proud of how he goes about it. However, when strange sorcerers come out of the woodwork seemingly to specifically mess with him, he genuinely considers handing in a resignation to the Old Religion.

_To the Triple Goddess: I am tired of this. Find someone else. Sincerely, Merlin._

He pushes open the door to Gaius’s chambers and stands in the doorway. Gaius looks up from whatever tonic he’s working on and eyes Merlin critically. His sharp gaze takes in Merlin’s unimpressed face, and tense shoulders, and straightens all the way.

“What’s wrong now, Merlin?” he asks in a disapproving tone that does nothing to ease Merlin’s irritation.

Merlin closes the door behind him, and dumps the medical satchel on their scarred wooden table, “I’ve got another request for help from the druids.”

“Didn’t you just finish a request last month?” Gaius asks, frowning.

Merlin huffs a sigh, digs the pork pie out of his pocket, and takes a vicious bite. He had planned on saving it, but he needs something to vent his frustrations on. Once he’s swallowed his bite, he sinks down on the bench next to Gaius.

“Apparently the location of a magical artifact has just been discovered, and I’m the only one qualified to go retrieve it.”

“Then you must go.” Gaius says like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Merlin can see the future spreading out before him as if he was the Seer and not Morgana. He’s going to be lying to Arthur again, he’s going to have yet another near death experience, and after all that if he succeeds then he will get no gratitude for the risk he’s taken. Gratitude isn’t why he does this, but some would be nice. He’s exhausted all the time, and he can barely sleep through the night from nightmares. Perhaps it would be an easier burden to carry if people knew, but that would require telling Arthur and that’s not something that can happen until the time is right. He takes another bite of his pie.

“Eat too quickly and you’ll get hiccups again.” Gaius admonishes.

“The artifact is all the way in Essetir in the caves of the old dragons. Your tavern excuse won’t hold up. Arthur may think I’m useless and lazy, but even that won’t buy me two weeks in a tavern without questions.” 

“Then we must concoct a way for you to be gone for all that time without suspicion.”

“You make it sound so simple.” Merlin complains.

Gaius raises an eyebrow, “It’s not like you to be so defeatist, Merlin.”

“It was a good day,” Merlin says by way explanation, “and then destiny reared its head again.”

Gaius sets aside the potion to cool, and shuffles so he’s standing behind Merlin. He digs his strong fingers into the knots of muscle in Merlin’s shoulders, and Merlin sags a little in relief. He knows his whole stance has changed since he came to Camelot. He walks with more confidence, yes, but he also carries constant tension now. He’s sure it has gotten worse since the last time he went to visit Ealdor, and at that time his mother had been so concerned she had actually refused to let him help with chores despite spending his entire childhood lecturing about pitching in to help.

Camelot isn’t all bad, really. He has Arthur, and Gwen. He has a purpose for his life. He has Percival, Elyan, and even Leon is the closest thing he’s ever had to a big brother. He has Gaius, and Gwaine. A small smile tugs at his lips at the thought of Gwaine, he may be the cause of much chaos among the knights, but Merlin knows it’s just to keep them all cheerful in the darkness. Not even Will could get Merlin to smile as much as Gwaine.

“I think I have an idea.” Gaius says finally.

Merlin blinks sleepily and nods his head, “I’m all ears.”

“We tell Arthur that you’re going to pick up a rare medicinal herb for me. We can say that my supplier was making his way to Camelot, but his horse became lame. I am far too old to make the trip myself, but as my unofficial apprentice you would know enough to know whether the supplier was providing us what we need.”

“Think he’ll buy that?”

“Unless you have any better ideas, I think it is the story we go with,” Gaius says and pats Merlin on the shoulder, “You’ve run errands for me before, I think Arthur will grant you the time, especially if we phrase it that we can use these herbs to better treat the people.”

Merlin shrugs and heaves himself back to his feet. “I better go now before council starts. Arguing with them all afternoon always gives him a headache.”

*

“So let me get this straight,” Arthur says with that dismayed and confused look that Merlin is so often the source of, “Gaius is sending you to collect herbs from a supplier stuck in Essetir?”

“That’s right.” Merlin says cheerfully, and smiles his best eager grin.

“Even though we have no official treaty with Essetir and the last thing we need is war with another kingdom to go along with our war against Morgana?” Arthur says disbelievingly. 

“I think that’s why Gaius wanted to send me,” Merlin leans in conspiratorially, “I’m not a noble or knight or anything like that. It won’t be seen as strange for another young man to pop up in a village for a few days and leave again.”

Arthur bobbles his head slightly, clearly thinking it over, and nods, “Very well, but I want you to take a knight with you.”

Merlin wants to tear his hair out. Leave it to Arthur to listen to a warning about no knights crossing into Essetir, and then ask for one in the next breath.

“Arthur—” Merlin starts, but Arthur holds a hand up and leans back against his table.

“I understand your reluctance, but they will not take anything that identifies them as a citizen of Camelot.” Merlin thinks this is starting to sound suspiciously like when they tried to track down the Cup of Life and ended up fighting an undead army, “and all of them can easily pass themselves off as commoners. Besides, if you’re attacked by bandits, I want you to be with someone who has a shot of keeping you safe.”

“Are you saying you care about me?” Merlin can’t resist teasing.

Arthur rolls his eyes, but doesn’t dignify the response with one of his own. Instead, he says, “It increases your chances of bringing home those herbs as well.”

It’s Merlin’s turn to consider. If he’s going to be fighting against forces of magic to bring this damn ring home, then he wants someone who will turn a blind eye to his magic, or even better, encourage it. Only one knight fits the bill.

“I’ll take Lancelot.”

“Sorry. Lancelot is on patrol. He won’t be back for another week, and this seems urgent.” 

Icy panic grips Merlin’s heart. Leon is out of the question, as much as Merlin may like him. His stance on magic will always reflect the one the King holds, and Arthur has yet to come around to the side of magic. Elyan grew up in Camelot, so even if he doesn’t hate it all the mistrust might still run deep. Percival might be okay, but Merlin doesn’t know him all that well yet.

“Gwaine,” he blurts, “I’ll take Gwaine.”

Arthur’s face crinkles in confusion, “Gwaine? Why on earth would you take Gwaine instead of Leon?”

“It will be nice to get some alone time with him.” Merlin answers, still operating on blind panic. As soon as the excuse has left his mouth, a million better ones come to mind. They rescued Arthur at the Fisher King’s palace together, Gwaine stepped in to protect him from the ruffians at the tournament that time, and risked execution to make sure Arthur came out of said tournament alive. 

Before he can voice any of this, though, Arthur’s face has gone blank, “I didn’t realize you and he were,” Arthur gestures vaguely at Merlin, “you know…”

Merlin frowns, head cocked to the side, “We were what?”

“Courting.” Arthur answers stiffly.

“Oh! No! I mean—he—I… it isn’t…” Merlin stutters.

Arthur’s face softens a little, and a small smile graces his mouth, “It’s alright. I suppose he was bound to wiggle his way into one of our beds eventually.”

“It’s not like that!” Merlin says desperately, but Arthur is already clapping him on the shoulder.

“There’s nothing to hide. You have my permission to take Gwaine with you,” Arthur says as he walks to the other side of the table, and looks up with a concerned frown, “Just be careful, won’t you?”

“That’s why I’m taking a knight.”

“I meant with Gwaine,” Arthur says seriously, “He’s a good man, but I have yet to see him commit to someone for longer than a week.”

Merlin is so startled by Arthur being _supportive_ , that he forgets all about trying to explain away the misunderstanding until he’s already standing outside of Arthur’s chambers holding a pile of dirty laundry in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Merlin jogs out of the kitchen, leaving Arthur’s clothes to soak. An unexpected rainstorm the day before meant the training grounds were covered with mud, and by extension so were the clothes Arthur wore. Merlin has gotten good at lifting stains with his magic, but removing caked on then dried mud is beyond him. Sometimes he swears Arthur does it on purpose to mess with him, though Arthur would no doubt deny it and say that it was behavior unfit for a king. 

The training grounds are empty when he reaches them. They are in marginally better shape than they were yesterday, but there are still tracks in the mud from where the knights spent most of yesterday morning slipping around in the mud. Gwaine had even tied his hair up and out of the way to avoid the getting mud in it if at all possible. Merlin hoped to find him here. Leon was meant to run training while Arthur was in council, but apparently they’d finished early.

After a quick check of the armory, revealing that it is empty too, Merlin jogs up the steps back into the castle. If Gwaine has somehow already made his way down to the Rising Sun, Merlin is going to be quite cross. Gwaine isn’t nearly as much of a drunk as his reputation implies, he only goes to the Rising Sun to keep up pretenses with the other knights. Why he feels the need to come across as a cad, when he’s one of the most loyal people to ever exist, Merlin will never understand.

He makes his way down the hall to the knights’ quarters, and knocks on Gwaine’s door. It springs open a moment later to reveal a grinning Gwaine. His hair is loose around his jaw, but he’s shirtless and still a little sweaty. Training must have ended just before Merlin went in search of him. 

When Gwaine realizes who knocked, his grin gets even wider and he exclaims, “Merlin! What can I do for you?”

Merlin braces an arm on the doorframe and leans in with a conspiratorial smile, “I’ve come to ask you a favor.”

“All you have to do is ask, my friend,” Gwaine says and slaps Merlin on the chest playfully with the back of his hand, “What do you need?”

“I’m going off on a quest of sorts,” Merlin explains, “Arthur’s approved, but only if I take a knight with me.”

“And good Sir Lancelot is out on patrol so you came slumming after me.” Gwaine guesses.

Merlin shrugs, a little embarrassed at making Gwaine his second pick. The amount of times Gwaine has gotten him out of a scrape is nearly double Lancelot’s number, and that should count for something. There’s just the pesky little issue of Gwaine not knowing about his magic. Although, after this jaunt, that might change. It would be nice to have Gwaine in his corner about the magic. 

“More or less” he admits with a sheepish crinkle of his eyes.

Gwaine chuckles and steps aside so Merlin can enter, “Well tell me where we’re going.”

“Really?” Merlin asks hopefully as he steps in after him, “You’ll do it?”

“Course I will,” Gwaine responds as he tugs a shirt on over his head, “You know I’d grant you anything.”

“Yeah. I know.” Merlin says softly.

“So, where are we going?” Gwaine asks as he sits on the end of his bed to tug on his boots.

“Essetir. Gaius has a supplier that brings him herbs that don’t grow around here, but his horse suffered an injury and he can’t get to us. I’m heading out to retrieve the things Gaius ordered before the supplier can sell them off to someone else.”

“Seems easy enough.”

“Hopefully. I am sick of getting attacked by bandits every time we go more than a mile from the citadel.”

“Really quite the hassle.” Gwaine agrees cheerfully.

“We aren’t supposed to take anything with us that could be used to identify us as citizens of Camelot.” 

Gwaine grins at him as he pours himself some water, “Even better. As nice as being a knight is, I miss getting to get into trouble.”

“I think Arthur was hoping you’d keep me out of trouble instead of getting us into it.” Merlin points out with a laugh. 

“We’re going on a quest. Trouble is bound to find us one way or the other.” Gwaine says with a shrug.

Merlin shakes his head in mock disapproval, “I really thought you’d changed. After all, you’re a knight of Camelot now.”

“If I ever try to stay out of trouble, that is your sign that I have been replaced by some magic doppelganger,” Gwaine says seriously, “When do we leave?”

“Arthur wants us to go as soon as possible.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you tomorrow at the stables at first light.”

“Joy.” Merlin remarks sarcastically, and the sound of Gwaine’s chuckle follows him back down the hallway.

Now that Gwaine is roped into this harebrained scheme, his next order of business is to pack. He walks back to Gaius’s, mentally listing what he’ll need to bring, and pushes open the door. Gaius looks up from his book and raises his eyebrows.

“He bought it.” Merlin answers the unspoken question, “Gwaine and I are leaving at first light tomorrow.”

“Gwaine?” Gaius asks, sounding a bit indignant, “Merlin! This is a magical quest! You’ll have to use your powers!”

“I trust Gwaine with my life.” Merlin dismisses as he opens their store cupboard to see what they have in the way of travel rations.

Gaius gets to his feet, disapproving frown on his face, “That’s exactly what you will be doing if you take Gwaine with you!”

Merlin sighs and turns around so he can face Gaius. He knows this rant is coming from a place of protectiveness, but he’s had it drilled into his head so often he literally has dreams with Gaius’s angry voice floating through them. He understood the need when he was younger and more reckless, but he’s been by Arthur’s side for years. He knows what could be at stake if Gwaine blabs to Arthur, and Arthur isn’t ready to accept this secret yet. He trusts Gwaine, though. He knows deep inside, all the way to his bones, that Gwaine’s loyalty lies with Merlin first, and not Camelot. He won’t betray him.

“I understand why you’re worried. I do.” Merlin promises, “But I can’t rely on Lancelot to be the only one to protect my secret. I need more allies besides the two of you, Gaius.”

“I just want you to be careful, my boy.” Gaius says softly.

“I will. I promise.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” 

“Gaius!” Merlin says indignantly, “I’m always careful! And if it makes you feel better, I’ll wait until Essetir before I tell him so that he doesn’t have jurisdiction to execute me.”

Gaius shakes his head with a little smile, and makes a shooing motion with his hands, “Get packed.”

Merlin grins and hops up the stairs to his room. He snags his old leather pack from the top shelf and starts cramming in the things he may need. Most of it is food, but he also folds up an extra blanket and shoves it in alongside. Spring nights can be chilly, and prone to rain. He doesn’t want to spend the night either shivering in the cold to let the blanket dry next to the fire, or sleep under a damp blanket. He straps his bedroll to the top, and rests the whole pack in the corner of his room.

He leaves after that to fetch Arthur’s dinner from the kitchens, and avoids having his skull caved in by Cook’s ladle when she accuses him of being there to steal her pies. Honestly, she’s the only person in Camelot with a vendetta against him. Helping Gwaine and Percival with their pranks probably didn’t do much to endear him to her, but she hated him long before that.

He pushes open the doors to Arthur’s chambers, and sets the tray down on Arthur’s dining table. He can see Arthur at his desk, head bowed over some documents, brow crinkled in concentration. Knowing Arthur, he’s probably been at this since Merlin left him at lunch time.

He walks over and raps his knuckles against the desk to get Arthur’s attention. Arthur startles and almost leaves a line of ink through whatever he was writing. He glares at Merlin, but Merlin just smiles as he always does.

“If you keep frowning like that, you’ll get wrinkles, and then how will you ever get Gwen to marry you?”

“Do you ever say things that aren’t completely ridiculous?”

“You’ve called me wise before, Sire, so I think the answer to that is yes.”

“If you tell anyone that I called you wise—”

“You’ll make my life a living hell?” Merlin finishes with an amused tilt of his head.

Arthur makes that face where Merlin knows he’s doing his best to hide a smile, “Got it in one.”

“Come on. I brought dinner.” Merlin says and nods his head towards the dining table.

Arthur heaves himself to his feet, abandoning the documents where they are in a haphazard pile on his desk, and makes his way over to the table. They’ve long since gotten passed the point where Arthur expected Merlin to stand silent in one corner while he ate, and now Merlin leans against the wall next to Arthur’s chair.

“Gwaine and I leave tomorrow at first light for Essetir.” Merlin says casually.

“Excellent. Did you arrange George to serve me?” Arthur asks around a mouthful of bread.

“Can you really not last two weeks without me?”

“Normally the lack of your incompetence would be a relief, but I have council meetings every day for the next two weeks. I need someone to serve us wine.”

“I’ll look in on George before I go to sleep.”

“Very good,” Arthur says in what Merlin has dubbed his ‘pompous king’ voice, “Try not to take too long. As fun as… alone time will be with Gwaine, we need those herbs.”

“What do you mean as fun as alone time will be?”

Arthur fixes him with a look that clearly shows that he’s worried Merlin has suddenly become more of an idiot than before, “I’m telling you not to waste valuable time holed up together in a tavern bed somewhere.”

“Ah.” Merlin says shortly, and presses his lips together at the awkwardness.

“Indeed.” Arthur says stiffly.

“I meant to tell you before,” Merlin starts, “but Gwaine and I aren’t…”

Arthur holds up one hand with a disgusted wrinkle of his nose, “Merlin, I really don’t want to know what you get up to in the bedroom.”

“That’s just thing. We aren’t—”

“Don’t want to know!”

“Arthur!”

“Merlin!”

Merlin rolls his eyes at the almost frantic look on Arthur’s face. Honestly, and Arthur has the audacity to accuse him of being a drama queen. Arthur is far more dramatic in his day to day than Merlin could ever hope to be.

“I’ll go look in on George, shall I?”

“Yes. Thank you, Merlin.”

“Wow. A thank you. This thing with Gwaine really must have you rattled.” Merlin teases.

“I am not rattled!”

“And that’s why you’re going all red? Honestly, I didn’t take you to be so modest, Sire.”

“Get out of here before I have you thrown in the stocks.” Arthur grumbles.

Merlin snorts, but does as he’s told. He catches George polishing brass, and the little boot licker starts droning about what an honor it is to serve the King. He’s never heard anyone sing Arthur’s praises like George can, and the funny thing is he never goes on about Arthur’s actual good qualities. He never mentions Arthur’s nobility, or the kindness that he hides under layers of arrogance. It’s just a solid ten minutes on the duties of a king. Merlin barely escapes with time to eat his own dinner and go to sleep.

He staggers out of bed the next morning, only half awake. Somehow Gaius is already up, and wide awake to boot. He presses a bowl of oatmeal into Merlin’s hands, and Merlin eats it without really tasting it. He changes into proper clothes, grabs his pack, and stumbles out to the stables.

Gwaine is waiting with both horses saddled, and Merlin is torn between kissing him and strangling him. On one hand he doesn’t have to saddle Daisy, something he doesn’t want to think about when he can’t even open his eyes fully, but on the other, “How are you so awake?”

Gwaine flicks his hair out of his face, looking smug, “I expected the Manservant to King Arthur to be used to waking up early.”

“You’ve seen Arthur in the mornings on patrol, do you really think he’s any less of a bear if I wake him too early?”

Gwaine chuckles, and ruffles Merlin’s hair, “Thought farm boys woke early too.”

“I haven’t been a farm boy in seven years.” Merlin complains and bats away Gwaine’s hands.

They mount their horses, and ride out of the citadel in silence. Merlin feels marginally more awake now that he’s riding, but the sleepiness is replaced by a heaviness in his gut. It’s two days maximum before he spills his greatest secret to Gwaine. No matter how he tells himself that Gwaine has no interest in hauling him in for the high crime of sorcery, there’s a little voice in his head telling him it’s not safe. He’s literally putting his life in Gwaine’s hands, and it is a terrifying prospect.

As a result, they spend most of their day in silence. They both have reputations as chatterboxes but, despite what the others think, they both know how to be silent when it suits them. Merlin is grateful that Gwaine seems to be reading his mood correctly. Merlin just lets himself breathe in the clean forest air, and try to draw strength from the world around him. If Gwaine tries to chop his head off tomorrow, he wants to have as much magic stored up as possible.

They make camp that night, only a few hours from the Essetir border. It’s strange being so close to home, and he wishes they had time to stop in on his mother. Perhaps, if everything goes smoothly, they can stop on the way back to Camelot. He takes second watch that night, and lets his magic play with the sparks of their fire. He knows he won’t be killed tomorrow, but he can’t help feeling like it could all come to an end. If it does, he wants to have made the most of his magic on his last night with it.

They cross over the border into Essetir that morning, and Merlin tries to keep up his usual banter with Gwaine. The last thing he wants is Gwaine suspecting he’s hiding anything. They ride through villages that remind Merlin so much of Ealdor he actually feels a little homesick. He wouldn’t give up his life in Camelot for anything, but he does sometimes yearn for the days when life was simpler.

They once more make camp in the woods at nightfall. They sit around the campfire, and Merlin stares into it, trying to summon the courage to just tell Gwaine what’s going on. Every time he thinks he’s worked up enough courage to speak, the words get caught in his throat. In the end, it’s Gwaine who breaks the silence.

“Alright. You’ve been a walking storm cloud since we rode out. What’s going on?”

Merlin takes a deep breath and looks at Gwaine over the fire, “I’m going to need you to be okay with a lot of things very quickly, and I want to remind you that we’re in Essetir now so you can’t enforce any of Camelot’s laws.”

Gwaine frowns a little and nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“We aren’t running an errand for Gaius, we’re tracking down a magical artifact. I have magic, and Arthur is under the impression you and I are courting.” Merlin says in a rush.

“What was that last one?” Gwaine asks, looking more confused than angry.

“Arthur thinks we’re courting.”

“No. The one before that.”

“I have magic.” Merlin says dully.

To his surprise, Gwaine laughs and says, “And I’m Arthur’s Uncle.”

“Gwaine, I’m serious.”

“Merlin, we’ve been riding out together for years. I think I would know if you have magic.”

Merlin knows he should probably leave it there, but he’s never been very good at doing what he’s meant to do. He looks at the waterskin Gwaine is holding and, with a thought, it levitates out of Gwaine’s hands and dumps the last drizzle of water over his head.

Gwaine’s eyes widen, and Merlin waits for the fear or anger. He waits for the accusations, the cold kiss of metal against his neck. Instead, a look of utter delight spreads across Gwaine’s face.

“Are you kidding me? Do you know how many pranks you could have helped me pull off with gifts like that? I could have stolen so much chicken from Cook.”

“You aren’t angry?” Merlin asks softly, not yet daring to hope.

Gwaine softens a little, crosses over to the other side of the fire, and pulls Merlin into a hug, “I trust you, Merlin. I’ve never subscribed to Princess’s way of thinking, and I know he’s the reason you’ve kept it hidden. I couldn’t be angry at you for guarding a secret that could get you killed.”

Merlin sags against him, just absorbing the supporting warmth, “Arthur will repeal the ban one day. I know he will.”

“I think he will too. He’s already stopped persecuting the druids.”

Merlin sighs against Gwaine’s chest, and feels tears spring into his eyes. It’s a relief to know he was right. It’s a relief to know that he has another person on his side in this mad fight against destiny. Gwaine just keeps holding him as he collects himself. When he finally has it together enough to sit up, Gwaine still keeps an arm around him.

“Just a few questions.”

“Okay.”

“If you were planning on bringing Lancelot on this little quest, does that mean he knows about your magic?”

“He’s known since he first came to Camelot,” Merlin answers, “I cast a spell on his lance to make him able to kill a griffin.”

“I suppose that explains why he’s always running after you when we get into trouble, I always thought he was using you to nurse his broken heart over Gwen.”

“Why does everyone think I’m courting the knights?” Merlin shouts.

“That’s my other question. Why does Arthur think you and I are courting?”

“When I chose you to come with me, I panicked and said it would be nice to spend time with you. Then I may have used it to make fun of him when he wouldn’t listen when I tried to correct him.”

“He never does.” Gwaine says with a laugh, “Last question. Why did you ask _me_ to go with you?”

“I knew I could trust you.”

Gwaine seems a little struck at that. “That’s a lot of faith in me.”

Merlin shrugs, “I was worried, but you’ve always been on my side.”

“Always will be.” Gwaine says solemnly.

Merlin grimaces a little, “We may need to keep up the courting story when we get home. I don’t know why he keeps letting Lancelot run after me, probably guilt over Gwen, but if you start taking over that role at times, he’s going to get suspicious.”

“We better practice then.”

“What?”

“As much as we like to joke, Arthur isn’t an idiot. If we want to fool him, then we need to get good at convincing him that this is the truth.”

“How do we practice courting?”

“Normally, I’d say we start by sharing a bedroll, but we can’t both sleep at the same time.” Gwaine explains, “I’ll stay awake for first watch.”

“No need.” Merlin says awkwardly and gets to his feet.

“Merlin, you can’t stay up all night.”

Merlin just ignores him, and walks to the edge of the clearing. He extends one hand, feeling his magic already leaping to do his bidding. He murmurs the spell under his breath, and extends his hand upward. A brilliant blue light follows the path of his hand, and arcs high above the trees before coming down on the other side of the perimeter. It hums briefly, then settles into an invisible dome.

“Did you just ward the entire clearing against attack?” Gwaine asks seriously.

Merlin smiles sheepishly, “No one should be able to get in unless they’ve been protected by my magic.”

Gwaine stares at him for a few moments before a roguish grin spreads across his face, “There are serious advantages to you having magic.”

“You couldn’t tell Arthur, could you?” Merlin jokes.

“If I could guarantee that he wouldn’t chop my head off for implying you would commit treason, then I would.” Gwaine answers, and spreads out his bedroll.

Merlin does the same, spreading it out so that the edge touches the edge of Gwaine’s, in effect making one large bedroll. They eat dinner together, and through most of it Gwaine requests tales of Merlin’s magical exploits. Merlin keeps it light, focusing on the times he succeeded, and Gwaine laughs himself sick over the story of Uther and the troll.

Sharing Gwaine’s bedroll isn’t as strange as Merlin thought it would be. Even when Gwaine reaches over and tugs him into his chest, Merlin just feels… safe. Gwaine’s heartbeat echoes steadily in his ear, and Merlin has no problem drifting off to sleep like that, head pillowed on Gwaine’s chest, Gwaine’s arm around him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Merlin strokes the noses of their horses, and makes they have enough to eat and drink before leaving the stable. Cool night air curls around him like an old friend, and he breathes deeply. It mostly smells like stable, but the breeze carries the scent of something fresher that he can’t identify. He thinks perhaps it might be hope. 

He enters the tavern, and zigzags his way less than gracefully to the bar where Gwaine is. He has the full force of his charming grin focused on the proprietor, a red faced woman old enough to be Uther’s grandmother, and she isn’t amused by Gwaine’s antics just like Uther never had been. When Gwaine sees him approach, that charming grin is turned on him instead, and Merlin finds himself smiling back, heart doing an odd little dance in his chest. Gwaine’s perpetually cheerful mood has always been infectious, and tonight, three days after the big reveal without Gwaine ever once panicking, it is more infectious than ever.

“Merlin! There you are!” Gwaine calls, and darts his arm around Merlin’s waist once he’s in range, “Please tell this kind woman that you are staying with me. She keeps accusing me of trying to bring trouble to her fine establishment.”

“You _are_ trouble.” Merlin points out, and Gwaine gasps in mock offense.

The proprietor’s face softens a little as she takes them in, the casual affection between them, “I didn’t realize he was asking for a room for two because of his husband.”

Merlin feels his face go hot, and he ducks his head a little to get out from under her wistful gaze.

“It’s new,” Gwaine explains with a possessive little squeeze to Merlin’s hip, “We forget, sometimes, that we’re allowed to show it off.”

“Oh to be young and in love again,” the proprietor sighs then takes Gwaine’s offered coin and slides him back a key to a room, “Go on you two.”

“Thank you. We’re most grateful.” Gwaine says, and guides Merlin up the stairs with hand at his waist.

“How are you so charming to anyone young, and yet so annoying to anyone over the age of forty?” Merlin laughs as Gwaine unlocks the door.

Gwaine shrugs, “I never had this issue before I came to Camelot. I think being a knight has made me soft.”

They enter the room, toss their packs in the corner, and Merlin collapses face first onto the bed. It smells a little musty, but he’s fairly certain that there aren’t any creatures living in it so he’ll count it as win. Gwaine collapses next to him with a groan, and they lay there in silence for several moments. Long enough that Merlin starts to think Gwaine has fallen asleep with his boots still on.

“I’m starving.” Gwaine says at last.

“It seems like you’re always starving.”

Gwaine snorts, and digs a playful elbow into Merlin’s ribs, “It takes a lot of food to be as dazzling as I am.”

Merlin’s stomach takes that opportunity to growl loudly, and he sighs, “I guess I could use some food too.”

“You know… since we’re husbands now... husbands usually do romantic things like bring each other food.”

“Thank you for volunteering.” Merlin responds, voice still muffled by the mattress.

Gwaine chuckles, and Merlin feels him sit up in order to get off the bed, “I’m starting to see why Arthur yells about you all the time.”

“I am an excellent bodyguard.” Merlin says by way of defense. His skills as a servant aren’t all that bad, but they aren’t up to George’s standards. He’s certain that Arthur secretly prefers it that way, the organized chaos of his chambers make them feel comfortable and lived in.

The door to the room clicks shut as Gwaine leaves, and Merlin burrows deeper into the mattress. He knows if he falls asleep now, he’s going to regret it, but he’s suddenly bone deep tired. He’s been holding his breath since coming to Camelot, and with Gwaine he can breathe out a little. Sometime later, the door opens, and Merlin can smell stew.

“Hope you’re still hungry.” Gwaine says as he deposits the tray on the rickety table-like structure in one corner, “I think they gave us the finest cuts of mystery meat they had for us newlyweds.”

Merlin flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling for a bit, contemplating whether getting food into his stomach is worth standing up. In the end the loud grumble of his stomach makes the choice for him. He rolls out of bed, and sits with Gwaine at the table-like structure, on chairs that seem like they might fall apart if they so much as shift the wrong way. Even with the less than favorable quality of the stew, Merlin finds himself smiling at nothing in particular, just happy to be having a proper meal with Gwaine without any secrets between them.

Merlin shovels the stew into his mouth mechanically, trying not to taste it. Whenever he eats stew that he hasn’t cooked himself, he is viscerally reminded of the incident with the rat stew his first few months in Arthur’s service, and starts to worry that the meat is a little too familiar. He is also reminded of the fact that they had ended up sharing that stew with Morgana. They never told her what was in it, and Merlin thinks that was probably very wise of them. She probably would have turned against them much sooner.

“How far until we reach the caves we talked about?” Gwaine asks and pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.

Merlin swallows his bite of stew, “Should be there by tomorrow. I have no idea what’s going to happen when we get there.”

“Isn’t that something the druids should have warned you about?”

“Apparently no one is willing to risk going to get it themselves. They worry that they won’t be able to resist the power it holds.”

“So they have no idea what the caves are like.”

“None.” Merlin agrees with a sigh.

Gwaine frowns, and gives Merlin’s free hand a firm squeeze, “Merlin, how long have you been throwing yourself into these kinds of situations?”

“From the moment I saved Arthur’s life the first time.”

“And how many close calls have there been?”

Merlin tries to pull his hand away, but Gwaine hangs on tightly, “Gwaine, leave it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Merlin,” Gwaine says, “You’re my best friend. I don’t want you to die because you were trying to save all of us on your own again.”

“I said drop it.” Merlin says, voice hard. Gwaine releases his hand and returns to his stew.

Merlin never used to be able to do that. Before Camelot, before the betrayals, the lies, the heartbreak, and destiny, Merlin could never make people do what he wanted. He was too goofy, too warm. At some point along the way he lost something, and while he spends most of his time still lighthearted, it’s too easy to pull on the coldness. He misses the younger version of himself at times, even more now when he sees the way Gwaine starts to lock himself down.

“I’m sorry,” he says gently, “It’s just… usually when it gets close to me dying it’s because I’ve failed Camelot again. I don’t like thinking about it.”

Gwaine nods, a little smile tugging at his lips once more, “I won’t make you talk about it, but I want you to come to me and Lancelot more often. No one can build a destiny on their own.”

“I’ll try.” Merlin hedges, and thankfully Gwaine drops it.

They finish shoveling in their dinner, and then starts readying for bed. Gwaine immediately strips out of boots, jacket, and shirt, and it makes Merlin roll his eyes. Even sleeping, Gwaine has to show off. Merlin supposes there are worse qualities Gwaine could have. He could snore, for example, or be as drunk as he pretends to be. 

Merlin walks to their door, double checks the lock, then traces the pattern of a familiar rune on the thin wood with his finger. He did this in Arthur’s chambers too after the last time someone snuck in to dose him with a love potion, or was it the time an assassin tried to stab him? Regardless, it is an extra layer of protection, and it makes Merlin feels better having it there. He murmurs the spell under his breath, and he can feel when his magic sinks into the wood like it’s a long forgotten friend.

“Did you know your eyes glow when you do that?” Gwaine asks from the bed. His tone is unreadable.

Merlin shrugs, and starts undoing the knot to his neckerchief, “I haven’t really seen my reflection when I’m casting, but I’ve seen others’ eyes do it.”

“It suits you, funnily enough.” Gwaine says.

Merlin slides off his jacket, and kicks off his boots, “I think that’s the first time anyone has complimented what my magic makes me look like.”

“A lot more people should be complimenting you a lot more often.” Gwaine says seriously, and shuffles over to make room for Merlin on the bed.

Merlin climbs in beside him, and Gwaine’s arm snakes around his waist like it has done all the nights before. He’s used to it now, and he thinks that he might miss it when they return to Camelot. The little bed in Gaius’s chambers can get lonely, especially when destiny decides to jerk him around.

They ride out at first light again, and Merlin yearns desperately for his normal wake up time in Camelot. Dew clings to the grass blades as they ride, and the early morning sunshine lights those drops to a sea of sparkling gold. It is much too beautiful for where they’re riding to. Any minute now they’re going to reach the caves’ entrance, and Merlin is going to have to deal with whatever trick and riddles get thrown at him by the old religion.

Just before midday they arrive at a set of caves, and Gwaine slows them to a stop. They loom out of the earth like an ancient creature, the openings jagged like teeth. No light shines inside that Merlin can tell, making the whole thing wonderfully dark and foreboding. There’s a hum in his ears.

“This it?” Gwaine asks, sliding his gaze over to Merlin.

Merlin dismounts from Daisy, and approaches the caves. The humming grows louder the closer he gets, echoing into a high ringing crescendo in his head. It rings down to his very soul, steals his breath, makes him stagger backwards. Gwaine’s hands on his back keep from toppling over.

“This is definitely it.” Merlin says breathlessly as he steadies himself.

“Are you sure you should go in?” Gwaine asks, eyeing the caves with distrust, “First approach nearly knocked you off your feet.”

“Happens sometimes, with strong magic.” Merlin explains, doing his best to hide how sweaty and shaken he is after that first approach, “I’ll be fine.”

Gwaine eyes him, and huffs a little sigh, “Do you see what position you put me in? I’m advising caution. Next thing you know I’m going to be respectful to Arthur and change my name to Leon.”

“I’ll be fine.” Merlin says, already smiling at Gwaine’s shenanigans.

“First sign of trouble, I’m getting us out.”

Merlin nods, and turns back to face the caves in order to hide his nerves. If he shows any uncertainty, Gwaine will call the whole thing off, and Merlin can’t let that happen. Him getting hurt, or having a magic induced migraine, will still be better than Morgana or some other powerful sorcerer getting ahold of that ring.

“Fromum feohgiftum on fæder bearme. Fromum feohgiftum.” Merlin murmurs, and a ball of light flares to life above their heads. He looks over his shoulder at Gwaine, smiles, and nods his head towards the entrance of the cave, “Coming?”

Gwaine shakes his head, mutters something about dramatic sorcerers, and comes to stand beside Merlin. Together they advance into the cave. The ringing in Merlin’s ears is even worse than it was outside, but he grits his teeth and keeps moving. The amount of magical power in this place makes Merlin feel like he’s standing in the courtyard in midsummer, despite the cave objectively being cold and damp.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just follows where the tendrils of his magic guide him. It does this sometimes, gets overjoyed to find things like it and tries to lead Merlin to it. The magic is him, he knows it, feels it, but it can feel like its own entity. This is one of those moments.

He can feel Gwaine behind him, shifting warily at any noise, ready to jump in as Merlin’s defender even now. Merlin has shown that he can take care of himself, but still Gwaine stands in to protect him. He’s not sure, given his failures, if he’s worth that level of friendship.

They emerge from one of the tunnels into an open cavern. The rocks aren’t as sharp here, as though the place knows if the person has gotten this far, there is no reason to keep up the defenses any longer. Merlin doesn’t trust it, this has all been too easy. He can see a plinth at the center of the cavern, and on it a silver ring glints. The ringing in Merlin’s head fades away at the sight of it, and he rolls his eyes. 

Everything has to be so dramatic with the Old Religion.

“Stay here.” He tells Gwaine, and takes a hesitant step into the cavern. When nothing rushes out to throw down a magical gauntlet, Merlin takes another step. He moves slowly to the plinth, waiting for the interruption at every step. He makes it all the way to the plinth before it happens.

“You should not be here, Emrys.” A voice booms, and Merlin looks around the cavern for the source.

A woman stands before him, thrown into shadow by the hood of the cloak she wears. She wears armor that looks a bit like the chainmail that Merlin has spent too many hours polishing, but different somehow. He realizes that it’s made out of scales.

“I mean no harm.” He tells her with all the authority he can manage.

The woman snorts inelegantly, and takes a menacing step forward. Merlin can see the golden gleam of her eyes in the shadows.

“Yet you seek the Ring of the Silver Dragon.”

“Not to use. Its location has been discovered, and I’ve been asked to take it somewhere where it can be safe.”

“You already have considerable power Emrys, surely you don’t need more.”

“I’m not trying to use it!” Merlin snaps, “I just don’t want anyone to use it!”

“Why should I trust the word of a man who kills his own kind?” the woman sneers.

“Oh for…” Merlin shoots her the most irritated look he can manage, the one he saves for when Arthur is being particularly frustrating, “It’s always under extenuating circumstances. I’m meant to bring the return of magic to Albion, but magic keeps trying to kill the king that is meant to unite the lands. I can hardly be blamed for that.”

The woman shakes her head in a way that would put Gaius to shame, “You must prove to me your word is sacred.”

“Ask Kilgharrah about my word.” Merlin says in that same hard voice he used on Gwaine before.

“Not good enough.”

“Then what is?”

“You shall soon see Emrys.” With that cryptic comment, the woman vanishes and leaves Merlin and Gwaine alone in the caves.

Gwaine takes a couple of steps into the cavern, hand lingering at his sword, “Do they always talk like that?”

“You have no idea.” Merlin grumbles, and picks up the ring.

He tucks it securely into his pocket, and together they makes their way back out of the cavern and into the tunnels. Gwaine keeps shooting him funny looks, as though his whole world view of Merlin is shifting and Merlin hates it. He was so excited to have Gwaine on his side that he forgot Gwaine was his one friend in Camelot untouched by the grand destiny he’s been dragged into. He doesn’t want to go form Merlin the Friend to Merlin the Sorcerer.

“Look, Gwaine…” Merlin starts, but is cut off by Gwaine slamming a hand over his mouth, and pulling him into a gap in the rock. Merlin struggles for a moment, thinking Gwaine has lost it or been enchanted. Then he hears the voices.

“Sounds like ten of them.” Gwaine murmurs into Merlin’s ear.

“They’re blocking our exit.” Merlin points out, voice just as quiet. 

Gwaine grimaces, and Merlin realizes that the ball of light could easily attract attention. He waves his hands so it extinguishes.

“Here’s the plan,” Gwaine whispers, “I’m going to lead them down the wrong tunnel, and you’re going to make a break for the exit.”

“I’m not leaving you behind.” Merlin hisses.

“I swore to protect you, Merlin. Let me do my job.” Gwaine hisses back.

Merlin snaps his fingers, and a shower of sparks spring from the motion, “Sorcerer, Gwaine.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t, and I won’t leave you either.”

“This is why Arthur is so devoted to you, isn’t it?”

“Yup. Now, you go down the wrong tunnel, and I’ll come up behind them.” Merlin instructs, “I won’t leave you so you may as well start cooperating.”

Gwaine grins, and Merlin can see it even in the dark. This is where Gwaine thrives, impossible odds and tight quarters. He claps Merlin on the shoulder, and dives back out into the tunnel.

“Hello boys!” he calls, already dancing backwards down the wrong tunnel.

It works exactly like they hoped. A rush of men go rushing passed. It’s hard to tell how many of them there are in the dark, but Merlin thinks there’s close to ten. They’re all yelling about getting Gwaine before he can get the ring first. It’s amazing these groups of bandits can get anything done considering how easily they let themselves get pulled into traps.

When the last of the footsteps pound by his hiding spot, Merlin emerges into the tunnel as well. He moves silently as a shadow behind them, keeping an eye out for Gwaine. They end up dead-ending into another cavern. This one without the distinct plinth of the other one. Gwaine is backed against one wall, sword at the ready, grinning like he’s having the time of his life.

“It’s not me you have to worry about.” He says.

“Who do we have to worry about then?” one of the men asks.

“Him.” Gwaine says, and nods to Merlin.

“He doesn’t even have a sword.” The man says, and it draws a laugh from the other men.

“I don’t need one.” Merlin says darkly, and waves his hand.

Three of the men go crashing against the wall of the cavern. The remaining seven spring into action. Five of them come after Merlin, and the last two go for Gwaine. Merlin can hear the clanging of swords, and he prays that Gwaine will come out of this unscathed. A sword gets too close to his face, and he sends its owner flying. The four try to flank him, get in behind him so they can drive a sword into his back. Merlin sends two of them flying, and faces down the last two. One collapses at his feet, just as he hits the other one. He looks up to find Gwaine, sweaty and triumphant, drawing his sword back.

“Magic and Strength together again, eh?”

Merlin chuckles, and echoes Gwaine’s sentiment, “Strength and magic.”

“By remaining at your friend’s side, you have proven you are a man of your word.” The voice booms, and the bodies vanish into so much sunlight, “You may have safe passage back to the surface.”

“They always make you prove yourself too?” Gwaine asks, clearly as exhausted as Merlin now that the adrenaline is fading away.

“Not always.”

Gwaine chuckles, wraps his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, and they stumble through a suspiciously easy and straight tunnel back to the surface. The horses are still where they left them, grazing on the sweet grass outside the caves. They collapse nearby, and stare up at the sky as they struggle to catch their breath.

“And after all this, we still have to ride home.” Gwaine pants.

Merlin groans and smacks him on the arm.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

They dismount and walk their horses over to the cottage, and tie them up out front. They need to stop for the night anyway, and Merlin has been meaning to do this for ages. He leaves Gwaine to tend to the horses for now, and knocks on the door to the cottage.

It swings open, and Hunith’s face lights up in surprise, “Merlin!”

“I hope I’m not intruding. We were on our way back to Camelot.” Merlin says with a sheepish little grin.

His mother pulls him into a hug and ruffles his hair, “You could never intrude, my boy. Who’s we? You and Arthur aren’t in any trouble are you?”

“Not this time. I actually brought along my friend Gwaine.”

Gwaine chooses that exact moment to step up behind Merlin. He bows low, and send Hunith his most charming grin, which draws a snort out of Merlin. Leave it to Gwaine to try to work his charm on Merlin’s Mother of all people. Hunith just smiles indulgently, and pats him on the shoulder.

“Merlin has mentioned you in the occasional letters he sends. He never writes me often enough.” She says with a little sideways glance at Merlin.

Merlin shuffles his feet, “It’s not like I have any time when I’m constantly chasing Arthur around.”

“A son should always write his mother, Merlin.” Gwaine says with a sage nod of his head.

Merlin glares at him, and raises his eyebrows, “Are we really going to talk about writing mothers when yours doesn’t even know you’re in Camelot?”

“Ah, but my mother is more trouble than she’s worth, whereas your mother is clearly a delight.”

Merlin opens his mouth to retort, but his mother cuts him off, “Stop bickering and come inside. I have just enough stew to feed us all.”

“Yes, Mother.” Merlin says dutifully and waits for her to step inside before he turns back to Gwaine, “Do you have the ring?”

Gwaine pats his chest just over the hidden inside-pocket, “All safe. No one will be making off with it.”

“We better go in then. My mother is a good cook for what she has access to, but after all this time in Camelot you really don’t want to eat that stew cold.”

Gwaine laughs, places his hands on Merlin’s shoulders, and steers him inside. The interior is just as Merlin remembers it from the day he left for Camelot all those years ago; funny how things change and how things stay the same. So much about his life is different since he arrived in Camelot: destiny, death, friendship. All of it tangles together in a life far away from his childhood home. Not for the first time, he wishes Will were here to see it.

“The stew smells delicious, ma’am.” Gwaine compliments, and grins at her roguishly.

She raises her eyebrows, and with a jolt Merlin realizes he picked up his ‘Gwaine I am begging you to be quiet’ face from her. He just hasn’t seen her use it since Will died. 

“Call me Hunith, and do stop trying to be so charming. Merlin has already told me what you’re really like.”

Gwaine turns to Merlin with a betrayed expression, “You insulted my character to your mother?”

“I wouldn’t say insulted,” Merlin says, fighting back a laugh, “more… painted a bright picture.”

“How could you? I thought we were meant to be in love?”

“Gwaine!” Merlin hisses, feeling his ears go red.

His mother pauses in her actions to fill three shallow wooden bowls, and fixes him with a bright hopeful look. Apparently he has reached the age where all parents start looking for potential matches for their children, and she’s been telling him to find someone for the better part of the year. Now Gwaine has handed her the perfect opportunity to pester him about it. Arthur has no idea how lucky he is that Uther isn’t still around to arrange marriages, or how lucky he is to have Gwen and therefore be immune to any interference from the council. Or Gaius.

“Are you?” she asks hopefully.

Gwaine sends him a smug smile, and Merlin smiles back. When they return to Camelot, he’s going to perfect that itching spell he found in one of Gaius’s books, and use it on Gwaine. Something about his face must express that to Gwaine because he pales and shuffles over to take over the job of serving stew.

“It’s all very new. I wouldn’t have even brought him, but I didn’t see Arthur being able to give me more time off soon.” Merlin says, evading her question.

“I won’t bother you with too many questions. Let’s eat.”

They gather around the low table in the center of the room, and begin to eat. It isn’t until the first bite that Merlin realizes just how hungry he is. The fight in the cave took a lot out of him, and he never really had a chance to replenish. They were too busy making hard for the border too stop and eat actual food. They’ve also been avoiding inns and taverns. Merlin just can’t risk the quest all going to hell because they let their guards down in a place of thieves.

“Slow down, you two, you’ll give yourselves a belly ache.” His mother says sharply.

Merlin pauses with a spoon halfway up to his mouth, and beside him Gwaine does the same. They share another glance, and by silent agreement, they start eating slower. His mother’s stew may not be as rich as the stew they eat in Camelot, but it tastes like home.

Merlin half expects his mother to ask to speak to him in private. She’s as bad as Gaius when it comes to Merlin keeping his magic a secret, and he’s sure his mother will want to ask if Gwaine knows. She doesn’t. Instead she just gets out the extra blankets she keeps for when winter gets too cold, and helps them set up a place to sleep. Perhaps she’s decided that he’s old enough to know his own mind now. Of course, he’s never been more unsure about his place in the grand scheme of things.

They sleep on the floor, but unlike Arthur on his first visit to Ealdor, Gwaine doesn’t complain about a lack of bed. He settles onto the stone, head resting on a sack of supplies that Merlin can’t identify in the dark, and tugs Merlin close. Merlin grunts a little, and elbows Gwaine lightly in the ribs.

“What are you doing?” he whispers, trying not to wake his mother.

“My chest is going to be more comfortable than the ground.” Gwaine whispers back, breath war, against Merlin’s ear.

Merlin can’t really argue that logic. Gwaine is more comfortable than a sack of wheat or the stone, although most things are, and he’s warm. Tentatively, he slides an arm across Gwaine’s waist, and settles in. To his surprise, Gwaine presses a kiss to his hair.

“What was that for?” 

He feels Gwaine shrug against his cheek, “Don’t know. It just felt right.”

“And people think _I’m_ strange.” Merlin teases.

“Go to sleep.” Gwaine chuckles.

Merlin closes his eyes, and drifts off feeling oddly content. He got used to sharing a bed with Gwaine over the last ten days, and it’s gotten to the point where he can’t remember what it was like to sleep in a bed without him. It’s going to be a tangle of confusion when they get back to Camelot, but for now Merlin can just rest knowing that someone is there to watch his back.

They wake at dawn, and Gwaine mutters something about strangling the rooster that woke them. Merlin disentangles himself from Gwaine’s arms, and politely holds back his retort about Gwaine being perfectly willing to ride with the sun on the day they left Camelot. All of Merlin’s revenge will be fulfilled with the itching spell he still plans to cast.

His mother wakes with them, and wraps herself in her big wool shawl that Merlin remembers from when he was so little, and he makes a mental note to ask Gwen for extra scraps to send home so his mother has something to patch it with. The fire comes to life with very little coaxing, and a few minutes later, a bowl of fresh gruel is being pressed into his hands. His mother must be happy to see him, because she included some dried fruit in it, and growing up that was only used for special occasions.

He and Gwaine eat, pressed side by side in front of the fireplace. Neither of them are awake enough to speak yet, but there’s something relaxing about getting to simply exist side by side with someone. For a few minutes, Merlin can forget all about the ring Gwaine has in his pocket, the lies he’s telling Arthur, and the pressure of destiny. It is just him, his mother, and Gwaine enjoying the time they have together. He wishes he had more chances to do this with his friends in Camelot.

They finish, help his mother clean the dishes in the stream that runs behind Ealdor, and tidy away their blankets. With nothing else left to do, Merlin presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek and breathes in her scent when she hugs him tight, then he mounts his horse, and guides her to where Gwaine is waiting for him.

“She loves you a lot, doesn’t she?” Gwaine asks softly.

“I was her entire world for nearly twenty years,” Merlin answers, “I don’t think it’s been easy for her with me away, even if she believes I’m where I meant to be.”

“If you ever need me to distract Arthur so you can come visit…”

Merlin silently revokes intent to use the itching spell on Gwaine, “I’ll ask. Thanks, Gwaine.”

“Anything for you, old friend.” Gwaine responds, with a little upward tilt of his lips.

They ride in silence for most of the day, and it’s the quietest the two of them have ever been together except for when they’ve been asleep. They are both lost in thought. Merlin can’t fathom what Gwaine is thinking about, but his own mind is caught up in the trouble of trying to figure out how to keep up this charade of a relationship when they return to Camelot. He supposes it wouldn’t be out of the question for him to sleep in Gwaine’s quarters. He isn’t a woman, and therefore has no risk of people spreading vicious rumors about him being pregnant behind his back. It does seem like a drastic step when Arthur only just ‘found out’ about them, but it’s not like Gwaine is going to have any time to ‘court’ him properly. Between his training, patrols, and council meetings, and Merlin’s chores, and destiny they are both far too busy to make their courtship seem anything other than clumsy.

Merlin has managed to lie to Arthur about magic for years, but somehow this lie seems the biggest of them all, and the hardest to believe. Any moment the two of them spend together will be under scrutiny now, and there’s going to be a moment when they are less than convincing. Arthur is going to know they’re lying, especially if he doesn’t find proof of the herbs. The herbs!

“The herbs!” Merlin shouts.

Gwaine whips his head around, staring at Merlin like he’s lost it, “What’s that?”

“The cover for this quest was that I was collecting herbs for Gaius! Arthur is going to want to see proof, or he’s going to think I lied so you and I could…”

“What? Spend a week making love to one another?”

Merlin grimaces, “Exactly.”

“You don’t have to look so grim about it.” Gwaine says with a laugh.

“It’s not that. I struggle to stay on Arthur’s good side, and I don’t need him thinking I’m skiving off to have romantic trysts. He’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“Any chance he knows what the herbs look like?”

“I don’t think so. He might know the ones that grow closer to the citadel, but not many this far out except to identify what is and isn’t poisonous.”

“Alright, then we stop riding and you pick some herbs. He doesn’t have to know they were picked instead of bought.”

“I think there’s a patch of feverfew around here somewhere. I spotted it last time Arthur went on patrol.” Merlin says, reviewing his mental map of the area.

“There we go. We’re still on track to get back to Camelot a day earlier than we expected because we rode to make it to your mother’s house. He won’t notice if we’re delayed by a couple hours.”

Merlin nods, and tugs at his horse’s reins to lead her in the right direction. They come across the patch of feverfew after about an hour of searching, and Merlin dismounts. The afternoon is spent hunched over the ground, twisting off the cuttings that Gaius will need to replenish the stocks. With the amount Merlin and Gwaine collect, Merlin won’t need to ride out to pick it for a while. Two birds, one stone.

When they finish, they collapse and prop themselves up against a tree. Salt from sweat clings to Merlin’s back, burning a bit as it dries. He has dirt under his nails, and in the grooves of his knuckles. Gwaine isn’t fairing much better, long hair plastered to his face and neck with sweat.

“You look terrible.” Merlin points out with a breathless laugh.

“You don’t look any better.” Gwaine says without turning his head, but Merlin can tell by his grin that he’s not offended.

They watch the sun go down together, and Merlin is struck by a sudden desire to turn right around and ride back to Ealdor. Today was a good day; dinner and breakfast with his mother, picking plants with Gwaine. For a moment, he wants to forget whatever role he plays in destiny, and just become a farm boy again. Gwaine coming along would make it all the better. 

“Do you ever think about leaving Camelot?” Merlin asks absently.

“Sometimes I miss life on the road,” Gwaine admits, “but I like where I am. What’s brought this on?”

Merlin shakes his head, “Just thinking about how it might be nice to leave everything behind and live on a farm again.”

“You’d be bored within a week.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” 

“And even if you won’t admit it, you’d miss Arthur too.”

“Arthur is a stubborn, supercilious prat.”

“Yeah,” Gwaine says drawing out the syllables and grinning, “but you love each other like brothers. He’d be helpless without you, and you’d feel adrift without him.”

“Stop being insightful, it’s weird.” Merlin grumbles.

Gwaine throws his head back and laughs, long and loud, and tosses his arm around Merlin’s shoulders. They sit like that until it’s too dark to see, and start fumbling through setting up camp. Gwaine must trip over something, because Merlin hears a hissed curse and then Gwaine asking, “A little help here, Merlin?”

“What do you expect _me_ to do?” Merlin asks indignantly, it’s not like he controls the night.

“A light wouldn’t go amiss.” 

“Oh. Right. Forgot you knew.” 

Merlin says the incantation, and feels the familiar rush of warmth as his magic extends out from his body. A series of twinkling gold lights hang above their heads, and for several moments, Gwaine just stares at them with a slightly awestruck expression on his face.

“It’s really amazing, the things you can do.” Gwaine says without looking at him, then goes back to laying out their sleeping rolls.

It’s habit, now, to lay the rolls side by side so that they form one large one, and climb in together. Merlin leaves the lights up for a little longer after they settle in, just enjoying being able to show this to someone without them immediately hauling him away to get his head chopped off.

“Can I touch one?” Gwaine asks, almost whispering.

Merlin shrugs, “I don’t think it’ll feel like much, but go ahead.”

Gwaine reaches one hand out, and brushes his fingers over one of the little lights. Merlin can feel it, dully, in the back of his mind. It’s strange, but not unpleasant.

“Did I tell you that I actually admitted to the entire court that I was sorcerer, once?” 

Gwaine stops running his fingers over the light, and turns to Merlin with his eyebrows nearly in his hairline, “Do you have a death wish?”

“They’d accused Gwen, and I couldn’t let her get killed. They didn’t believe me though, Arthur convinced them I was in love with her.”

“Seems Arthur has a habit of accusing you of being romantic with people you’re not.”

Merlin snorts, “I guess he does.”

They finish the ride back to Camelot by lunchtime the next day. The sun is bright overhead, and it illuminates the castle in all its glory. Bright white stone, towering turrets, guards on the walls. Merlin is reminded of the first time he ever came to Camelot. Everything seemed full of possibility then, and it feels that way again now. He has a feeling having Gwaine to share his secret with is what does it. There’s another person on his side for this fight, and for that he’s grateful.

“Race you back?” Merlin suggests.

“I’ll do you one better.”

“Yeah?”

“Hold out your hand.” Gwaine says.

“Why?”

“Why does everybody treat me with suspicion?”

“Maybe because of the time you put a frog in Percival’s boot and he only just saw it before he squashed it?”

“It was a poor attempt at flirting, I will admit.”

“You were flirting with Percival?”

“Yes, but it was not to be. We both had our hearts somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“His was with Elyan.”

“And yours?” Merlin asks curiously.

“Just hold out your hand.” Gwaine grumbles.

Merlin rolls his eyes, and holds his hand out. Gwaine grins, and reaches out between the horses to take Merlin’s hand in full view of the gate guards.


	5. Chapter 5

# Part 2: Life in Camelot

Chapter 5

Merlin leaves the ring in its bag tucked under the floorboard in his bedroom, next to his book of magic and the Sidhe staff. If he’s not careful his bedroom is going to turn into another vault of Camelot, locking away magic from the world. It’s not his fault that Uther had to be such a massive bigot about magic that it turned the entire magical community against Arthur. If they would all just stop trying to kill him for five bloody minutes, Merlin is sure he could sway Arthur to his side, and many of the artifacts could be restored to their proper caretakers. Instead it’s like destiny is trying to make it as difficult as possible to do his job.

Once he’s unpacked, and everything is put in his proper place, Merlin leaves to find Arthur. Despite arriving only a couple hours ago, Arthur has already requested his services. Merlin tries not to feel smug about that. He always knew Arthur relied on him, despite the constant complaints, but it’s always nice to remind Arthur just how useful he is by leaving George in charge for a few days. Arthur has had two weeks of George now, and he’s probably about ready to tear his hair out. Two weeks of brass jokes will do that to a man.

He pushes open the doors to Arthur’s chambers without bothering to knock, because he knows how that annoys Arthur to wit’s end, and finds him standing at his desk, tunic halfway off and hanging off one of his shoulders. In their younger years, Arthur used to make it a point of being shirtless around Merlin as much as possible to try to flaunt his superior muscle and cow Merlin into obedience. When it became clear Merlin was never going to be cowed, the shirtless displays didn’t so much reduce in number, as reduce in showmanship. There’s clearly nothing of showmanship right now, Arthur’s brows are crinkled as he looks over a document that msut have caught his attention while he was undressing after training. Merlin can see the places the tunic soaked through with sweat.

He’s going to have to wash it. _Gwaine has no idea how lucky he is that he didn’t have to jump back in right away, the bastard._ , Merlin thinks. Outwardly, he grins and comes to stand across from Arthur. His presence has yet to be noticed, so he leans forward, and waves his hand obnoxiously in front of Arthur’s face.

Arthur startles, and glares at Merlin with a look that clearly suggests that if they weren’t such good friends, Arthur would kill him. Merlin just keeps grinning.

“Need help with you shirt, Sire?” Merlin asks cheekily.

Arthur blinks down at himself, as if only just now noticing that his shirt is all rucked up on one side. He straightens with kingly dignity, and raises his eyebrows imperiously, “I think I am capable of removing my own shirt, Merlin.”

“Can you now?”

“Oh shut up and go fetch a pitcher of water to clean with.” Arthur grumbles and wrestles the rest of the way out of his shirt.

Merlin does fetch a pitcher of water, if by fetch Arthur meant find a hidden alcove and use it to fill the pitcher. He probably doesn’t, but Merlin is still riding high on the trust Gwaine showed in him and he isn’t ready to go back to the isolation again. His magic has never come this easily to his fingertips.

He returns with the pitcher, and settles it next to the wash basin. Arthur turns away from the documents he was staring at, and begins the process of scrubbing down. Merlin knows he could just read the documents over, and Arthur wouldn’t care, but there’s a certain ritual to this. When something is bothering Arthur, Merlin pushes and prods until Arthur is ready to explain what’s bothering him. It’s a long standing tradition that Merlin isn’t going to break just to satisfy his own curiosity.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, genuinely concerned.

Arthur sighs, and turns to lean up against the wash stand. He crosses his arms over his chest, “I’ve just had reports about mysterious occurrences across the western border. I don’t know if anything is wrong yet, but it could be a magic user on the move. The council will probably push me to give chase.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.” Merlin remarks, and starts tidying the room. This, too, is part of the routine. Merlin pretends to be uninterested, and Arthur feels more comfortable talking about personal matters.

“I don’t think I should risk any men over something that may not be coming to harm us.”

“That’s a surprising change in attitude.”

Arthur shrugs, “I guess I’ve just been thinking about revenge lately.”

“Revenge?”

“At some point someone has to stop seeking it, or it may go on forever.”

That gives Merlin pause, and he looks over at Arthur with a frown, “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Arthur dismisses and steps behind his privacy screen to change, “How was your journey with Gwaine?”

Merlin smiles to himself, “It was nice.”

A sort of half snort half gag sound comes from behind the screen, followed by Arthur saying, “Don’t be so love sick. It’s revolting.”

“I don’t give you a hard time about being love sick over Gwen!” Merlin responds as he dumps Arthur’s laundry in the corner to be dealt with tomorrow, “And I’m not love sick. It was just a very nice trip is all.”

“I really don’t want to know.”

“Then don’t ask, you turnip head.”

“Why must you insult your king this way, Merlin?” Arthur asks as he steps back around the edge of the screen, fully dressed this time.

“Because no one else will, and your head is already so big I worry you’re going to overbalance and fall over.” Merlin retorts, tilting his head.

Arthur grins at him and shakes his head, “I really should have you put in the stocks more often. You were always more cooperative in those days.”

“You do know that if you tried to put me in the stocks now, all the knights except for maybe Leon would just come get me out of them, right?”

“God help me, I do.” Arthur sighs, “Speaking of the knights, tell Gaius you won’t be available tomorrow afternoon. I need you for training.”

“You stopped using me as a training dummy ages ago.” Merlin absolutely does not whine.

“I need you to polish swords and hand out weapons. Gwaine has been away for two weeks, thought I’d let him return home to a session with all the available weapons in Camelot’s armory.” Arthur’s grin is pure, gleeful evil.

“You really can be a sadistic ass when you’re in a mood.” Merlin says dryly.

So Merlin finds himself perched on the bench at the edge of the training grounds, sword and rag in hand. Arthur hadn’t been kidding when he said he was going to work through every single weapon they had available. They’ve worked through mace and quarterstaff, and the knights are currently working on their sword play. Merlin can also see what looks suspiciously like a spear and a glave waiting to be picked up. He half expects Arthur to drag them out to the tourney pitch and start in on jousting too.

When even Percival, who has the most stamina out of all them except for Arthur, stumbles, and has to catch himself against another knight, Arthur calls for a break. One by one the knights come staggering over. Elyan collapses on the grass at Merlin’s feet, faintly threatening to revoke his approval of Arthur courting Gwen. Percival and Leon are mildly less dramatic because they’re both strong silent types, but their weariness is clear too. Lancelot, returned from patrol sometime in the weeks they were gone, sits next to Elyan on the ground, looking a bit ill.

Gwaine flops onto the bench next to Merlin, grinning at him through the exhaustion, “What’s got Princess in a tizzy?”

“He’s been thinking again.”

“I heard that.” Arthur snaps as he comes over, “Merlin, get everyone water will you?”

“They know where the bucket is.” Merlin responds, “I’m polishing swords like you told me to, Sire.”

“Ah, never mind that.” Gwaine says, staggering to his feet, “I’ll do it, Merlin.” Then, before anyone can recover from Gwaine voluntarily doing anything helpful that doesn’t involve diving recklessly into danger, he leans over and kisses Merlin just on the corner of his mouth.

For several seconds, everyone is so still that Merlin thinks he might have accidentally stopped time. His heart hammers in his chest, bucking wildly over the sign of affection. He feels lightheaded, and warm, and absurdly grateful to Gwaine. He’d thought himself cross eyed over how this was all meant to play out, and Gwaine just declared their relationship, albeit a fake one, to all the knights like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

“How long has that been going on?” is what Lancelot asks when everyone has recovered from the shock.

Gwaine saves Merlin from having to answer by sitting the bucket of water and all the cups within reach of the weary knights, and announcing, “About two months.”

“Didn’t think you’d ever learn to keep something quiet.” Percival says. Eyeing Gwaine with a newfound respect.

“Merlin’s special.” Gwaine shrugs.

Lancelot’s flick over to Merlin, and he raises his eyebrows questioningly. Merlin knows instantly what that look is asking. Does he know? Is he in on the secret?

Merlin nods his head, and everyone seems to take that as confirmation of the two month time line. There are lots of congratulations thrown about, and Leon ruffles his hair like Merlin is his little brother. There’s some glaring at Gwaine, the rest of the knights’ loyalty to Merlin apparently exceeding even their loyalty to each other. Then somehow Gwaine ends up convincing Merlin to go to the tavern with them all that night, and Merlin can’t quite remember the rest of the day after that.

The Rising Sun always looks the same, no matter what time of year it is. The lighting is always low, but still enough to see. The tables are always the same scared wood. The metal is always a little tarnished because no matter how often the proprietor tries to polish it, someone’s grubby body is brushing up against it moments later. It’s a welcoming place.

Merlin has never felt out of his depth here. He’s always just been another patron, unobserved and faceless. It’s a relief the few times he actually shows up here (because he doesn’t spend all his time in the tavern despite what Gaius may imply and Arthur might believe) to escaoe the grand designs of fate, if only for a few moments.

He feels out of his depth now. He’s spent the last hour tucked under Gwaine’s arm, and he has no idea what to make of it. Gwaine has always been physically affectionate; slaps on the back, hair ruffles, hugs. This situation has taken Gwaine’s usual affection and amplified it somehow. His thumb strokes Merlin’s shoulder through his jacket, and whenever he wants to say something to Merlin, he turns his head so that his lips brush Merlin’s ear. 

It does make him ponder how Gwaine could be so bad at flirting with Percival, when it’s clear he knows just what to do. They aren’t even in an actual relationship, but all this touching is making Merlin’s head spin. He finishes off his drink, hoping the last sip will be the thing to make all of this make more sense. All it does is make him more confused, and a little sleepy.

Gwaine does that head turning thing again, and murmurs, “Want me to get you another?”

Merlin blinks a few times, trying to sort the meaning of the question, then nods slowly, “That would be good.”

Gwaine smiles, finally removes his arm from around Merlin’s shoulder, and shuffles off to get him another tankard of mead. The knights all watch him go, and Elyan turns to look at Merlin with wide, surprised eyes.

“Did Gwaine just go to buy you another drink?” he asks.

“He asked if I wanted one.” Merlin answers, trying to remember why that would be so unusual.

The knights all exchange looks, and Leon says, “He must like you a great deal.”

Merlin finally fits together all the pieces. Gwaine, while not a bill skipper, has avoiding being the one to pay down to an art. He establishes drinking games where the person to lose has to buy the next round, and he almost always wins because he has a supernatural alcohol tolerance. On the rare occasions he does lose, everyone knows it’s on purpose because he doesn’t want the other knights angry at him for never paying. Gwaine, who never pays, just went and bought Merlin another drink unprompted. Merlin feels even more out of his depth than ever before.

Three days after the tavern incident, Merlin is hauling Arthur’s clothes down to the laundry because he really can’t put off doing it any longer, when he hears his name being called. He pauses in the middle of the corridor and sees Gwaine walking towards him, large grin crinkling the skin around his mouth and eyes. Normally that smile would mean trouble, but things have been so strange since getting back to Camelot that Merlin doesn’t even know if he can reliably read Gwaine’s body language anymore. 

“Need something?” Merlin asks once Gwaine is in earshot.

Gwaine does something with his arms and a calculated turn that relieves Merlin of Arthur’s washing, and he sets it on his own hip instead, “I just wanted to see you.”

“You better not be asking me to pull a prank with you and Percival. I only just got cook off my back for that time I helped you two steal chicken.” Merlin warns.

It makes Gwaine laugh, and his hair falls into his face in a charming action that Merlin vaguely remembers from when Gwaine flirted with Gwen that one time. It also serves to highlight his nose, and Merlin thinks it rather unfair that apparently Gwaine has so much charm that even his nose is good looking.

“No pranks. Just wanted to give you this.” Gwaine says, and produces a flower from somewhere.

Merlin stares at it, uncomprehending, until Gwaine once more laughs, and tucks it behind Merlin’s ear. His fingers are warm against the side of Merlin’s face, and Merlin swears they linger just for a little while longer than they should. That warm light headed feeling creeps back into his chest. Gwaine really is good at faking this.

“Only Gwen has ever given me a flower before.” Merlin states, brain to mouth filter temporarily broken.

Gwaine smile softens, and he starts heading to the laundry, “It’s why I gave you one. You deserve to get nice things.”

For a lack of anything else to do, considering Gwaine has literally stolen his chore from him, Merlin follows. The laundry is all abuzz with activity when they enter, and a little hush falls over anyone they pass as Gwaine carries the basket over to the tubs used for washing. If the news of their relationship wasn’t all over Camelot, it will be now. Merlin shifts uncomfortably under the assessing gazes of his fellow servants.

“Join me for a picnic the day after tomorrow?” Gwaine suggests, out of the blue.

Merlin thinks he might get mental bruises from trying to switch direction of thought fast enough to keep up with Gwaine, “I don’t know.”

Gwaine steps closer, and drops his voice so only Merlin can hear, “It’ll help convince him we’re courting.”

“I have to ask Arthur.”

“Do that, and let me know.” Gwaine says cheerfully, and presses another one of those kisses to the corner of Merlin’s lips. He throws a little wink over his shoulder as he leaves.

The activity in the laundry remains stagnant until Merlin turns around, and dunks the first of Arthur’s tunics into the soapy water. He remains in a confused daze for the rest of the day. He brings Arthur his dinner that night, still trying to follow Gwaine’s thought process, and nearly dumps half of it over Arthur’s chest in his distraction.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouts, just dodging out of the way.

Merlin blinks a few times, then grimaces, “Sorry.”

“You are half asleep today!” Arthur says, but it lacks the bite of their first year in each other’s company, “What the hell has you so distracted?”

“Err… Gwaine.” Merlin admits and sets the tray on Arthur’s table.

Arthur’s nose wrinkles a little, “You weren’t this distracted before. What’s changed?”

That’s the thing. Merlin wasn’t distracted before because he and Gwaine weren’t pretending to be more than they are. They were just good friends. Gwaine was just… _there_ when Merlin needed to breathe. He decides to tell Arthur a modified version of the truth. Merlin’s made him talk about his feelings about Gwen often enough that he can afford a bit of embarrassment to make things equal between them. Or as equal as can be while Merlin is keeping secrets.

“He’s been more affectionate lately.” He goes with.

“I’ve heard. Something about a display in the laundry?”

“It wasn’t a display.” Merlin says with a roll of his eyes, “He just kissed me like he did on the training pitch.”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “It… I hope he didn’t feel as though… I mean to say that I would feel ungenerous if he was keeping his affection quiet because of any disapproval I might express.”

“That’s not why.” Merlin says quickly, “At least, I don’t think so. I’m not sure what it is.”

“Are you happy?”

“I… yeah... I am” Merlin answers, and feels himself grinning, “He wants to take me on a picnic the day after tomorrow.” 

Arthur sighs, sounding vaguely put upon, then says, “Go.”

“What?”

“You covered for me with my father so I could do the same for Guinevere. Go. Enjoy your picnic.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” Merlin can’t stop grinning.

Merlin doesn’t get a chance to speak to Gwaine the next day, and learns from Gaius of all people where they’re meant to meet for their picnic. Apparently Gwaine left a message before running off to take care of some sort of knightly duty. The only instructions were where to meet, and to bring nothing.

Merlin finds Gwaine sitting by the same brook where Gwen and Arthur had their first romantic picnic. Arthur’s set up had been far more lavish than this, but Merlin is glad it isn’t the same. He remembers what a pain it was to haul it all out there, even when Arthur pitched in to help. The sun glints off the water, and casts against some of the red highlights in Gwaine’s hair, usually invisible to the naked eye.

When Merlin sits, the basket is filled with his favorites.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve Anarchy!

Chapter 6

Gwaine drops his arm around Merlin’s shoulder, and tucks him in close to his side. The sunlight glints off his hair, and he pushes it away from his forehead with his free hand. A few strands stick to the sweat from training, and unlike with every other knight, it makes him look roguishly disheveled instead of disgusting.

Something flutters in Merlin’s chest at the sight, but he resolutely ignores it and gives Gwaine’s shoulder a shove, wrinkling his nose as he does, “You smell horrible.”

“Oh don’t be that way, love.” Gwaine says with an evil grin, “You hardly minded getting sweaty with me the other night.”

Merlin’s eyebrows raise, and he pinches Gwaine’s arm, not hard enough to actually hurt him, but hard enough for Gwaine to make a little “ho” noise and retract his sweaty arm. Leon snorts, and hides behind his cup of water. Arthur rolls his eyes at their shenanigans, much like every time before.

Merlin smiles at Gwaine in that murder way he usually reserves for Arthur’s back when he’s being an idiot, and leans in to whisper, “Keep that up and I’ll tell them you cry after sex.”

“You threaten to destroy my reputation?” Gwaine whispers back dramatically, and gives Merlin his best wounded puppy look.

“Ask Arthur, I’m really good at putting down reputations with a few words.”

Gwaine chuckles, and bumps his shoulder with Merlin’s, argument apparently forgotten. Merlin squints at him suspiciously, but Gwaine holds his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender, and Merlin can’t stop himself from smiling. Gwaine is a pain in the ass, but in a different way than Arthur is. Gwaine knows he’s causing trouble, and he enjoys watching people scramble to react to him. It makes Merlin laugh rather than tear his hair out in frustration. Most of the time anyway, he would prefer not to repeat the incident where he got caught helping Gwaine smuggle food from the kitchens.

“Stop whispering you two.” Arthur says, somewhere between a snap and a tease.

“Jealous, Princess?” Gwaine asks, wrapping an arm around Merlin’s waist instead of his shoulders. Merlin allows it because he doesn’t have to smell Gwaine’s sweaty armpit, and because it makes Arthur look a bit constipated.

Arthur tilts his nose in the air with a scoff, meaning he’s feeling incredibly awkward and is falling back on his royal training, and says, “Why would I be jealous of you? I already have to put up with Merlin every day.”

“Hey!” Merlin says, feeling the need to defend his own honor, “I will have you know I have plenty of people who would kill to spend every day with me.”

“Ah, but I’m the one lucky enough to have you.” Gwaine says, managing to sound genuinely love struck. That, combined with the wide grin and dreamy eyes as he looks at Merlin, it is completely convincing. It baffles Merlin how well Gwaine manages to do that, make himself sound like the real thing when it’s all pretend. Merlin isn’t sure he’s doing nearly well enough at this charade to keep up with Gwaine.

Percival makes a gagging sound, and Gwaine raises his eyebrows challengingly, “That better not be gagging sounds or I’ll tell them what I caught you doing two nights ago.”

Percival goes a bit pale, and Merlin hides his amusement by ducking his head. There’s nothing funnier than seeing the largest knight in the five kingdoms get flustered or embarrassed. By all rights, he should just use his size to intimidate anyone who dares try to make fun of him, but he’s a gentle soul under it all. Gwaine also seems to have the ability to cut Percival down to size the easiest out of any of them.

“That won’t be necessary.” Percival says reassuringly.

“That’s what I thought.” Gwaine retorts.

Merlin rolls his eyes and shoves Gwaine away again. Arthur is starting to get that pinched look on his face that means he thinks the knights have been on their break too long, but doesn’t want to interrupt the fun being had. Uther rammed that stick so far up Arthur’s ass as a child it’s a wonder that Arthur hasn’t become just as hard and cruel as him. Merlin decides to put him out of his misery. It’s the kind thing to do after all.

“Get back to training. Your muscles are the only thing you have going for you.” Merlin says, but smiles to try to soften the insult. He and Gwaine tease each other a lot, but the outright insults are usually reserved for him and Arthur only. 

Thankfully Gwaine takes it stride, and grins wickedly. He drops his voice low and seductive, and says, “You know that’s not the only thing I have going for me.”

“And with that,” Arthur interjects loudly, “I think we should all listen to Merlin’s suggestion and get back to work.”

Gwaine’s smile softens, losing that dirty edge, and he presses a kiss to Merlin’s jaw before jogging back onto the pitch with the rest of the knights. Merlin’s heart does that funny little flop in his chest again, and he realizes he’s grinning. It’s been ages since he smiled for more than a couple seconds at a time, but this… whatever it is, with Gwaine, makes him feel lighter than he has since Morgana’s betrayal. He’s happy. He’s always been far happier in Camelot than he was in Ealdor, but he feels truly, actually, happy. Gwaine makes him happy.

Guilt floods Merlin so quickly it’s like a dam burst. Gwaine is the one doing Merlin a favor here, he puts his entire love life on hold in order to protect Merlin’s secret. Merlin should be grateful, definitely, and relieved, but he shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. It isn’t fair to Gwaine to be so happy about having someone pay attention to him, it feels like taking advantage of the situation. It feels like taking advantage of Gwaine, and Merlin never thought that was possible. Gwaine is notoriously good at wriggling out of things he doesn’t want to do, and maybe he wanted to protect Merlin, but this is going beyond that. 

He watches Gwaine out on the pitch, looking care free and happy, and feels his insides twist. He has to call his off before he gets too used to this level of affection, before they cross a line that will put their friendship in jeopardy. Merlin is hard up for friends. He has Lancelot, and Gwen, and he would also include Arthur in that, especially since Arthur admitted it himself. The thing is, there is still a distance between himself and Arthur. Arthur is king, and he may allow Merlin to get away with a lot, but in the end he can order Merlin away with the snap of his fingers. When he inevitably marries Gwen, there will be a distance between Merlin and her as well. It will leave him with Lancelot and Gwaine. If he messes up his friendship with Gwaine over this, he’ll be down to Lancelot.

Call Merlin selfish, but he can’t go back to being that lonely again. He can’t go back to scrambling against destiny on his own, he may survive it physically, but the man that comes out the other side, win or lose, will not be him. It will be some other Merlin, one who gave into the dark drag of survival. He needs Gwaine and Lancelot both to keep him on the right path.

On the field, Arthur swipes his leg under Gwaine’s and sends him crashing to the ground. It makes Gwaine laugh bright and loud into the sunshine, and Merlin vows to talk to him after training. He loves Gwaine, and does that thought hit Merlin like a sack of bricks. He knows that he loves Gwaine as a friend, it’s why he’s so intent on keeping Gwaine in his life after all, but the deep rooted feeling in his chest is new. He doesn’t want to pick at what it might mean because he’s already planning on shutting it down. Gwaine is too important to him.

He must have been staring too hard because Gwaine glances across the field at him. His face creases into a genuine smile, just as it always does when he sees Merlin, but some of Merlin’s internal panic must have shown. Gwaine’s smile gives way to a concerned wrinkle, and he tilts his head to one side, like he’s trying to read Merlin’s mind from across the pitch. Merlin offers a weak smile in return, and Gwaine’s frown deepens.

Merlin is saved from Gwaine coming over and pinning him down by Arthur calling for his attention. Gwaine sends one last suspicious look Merlin’s way, then turns back to training. He tosses his hair out of his face with a shake of his head, and Merlin makes a mental note to ask Gwen what she uses to keep her hair out of her face when she isn’t using one of the elaborate clips Arthur’s bought for her. He likes Gwaine’s hair, even if it is a bit ridiculous for a knight, but Merlin would greatly prefer that Gwaine not end up with a sword through him because his hair got in the way.

Elyan must be thinking something along the same lines as Merlin because he reaches up and ruffles Gwaine’s hair so it falls into his face, “The only person I know who is more vain about their hair than you is my sister.”

“What can I say?” Gwaine says with a self-deprecating grin, “My lovers have all enjoyed it. Right, Merlin?”

Merlin startles, then glares at Gwaine with all the annoyance he can muster, “Don’t drag me into this. I already warned you what I would tell them all.”

“I don’t want to know!” Arthur shouts, “I do not want to hear what my knight and my manservant get up to in their private hours together. Can we please pretend Merlin isn’t there like we always do?”

“It’s pretty hard to ignore him. You’ve seen how good looking he is.”

Gwaine says it so casually that it doesn’t register with Merlin properly so several seconds. He’s never been low enough in his opinion of himself to think he was unattractive, but he was fully aware that next to the knights he is a bit of an acquired taste. Will, Freya, and the barmaid the day they met Gwaine have been the only people to really express an appreciation for his looks, and Freya’s appreciation was far more about their shared fear than him. For Gwaine to say it, even as a remark he’s meant to make as the person pretending to court Merlin, it’s a surprise. Merlin can’t help but feel pleased.

Arthur hits Gwaine’s undefended side with the flat of his sword for that comment, and Gwaine grunts in pain. He raises unimpressed eyebrows at Arthur, and Arthur raises his back challengingly. There is an actual stand off for several tense seconds before they both mutually look away and pretend that it didn’t happen. This is just one more reason that Merlin needs to put a stop to this charade. Clearly, him and Gwaine being together drives Arthur mad, and the last thing Merlin wants is for things to be more difficult between the two of them. Gwaine, for all that he’s a mess, has worked hard to earn Arthur’s respect, and Merlin doesn’t want to be the cause for him losing it.

He doesn’t know why it gets under Arthur’s skin, exactly, but he can guess. He’s never really talked about his romantic entanglements with Arthur before. As far as Arthur knows, Merlin still hasn’t kissed anyone even though his first kiss had been with Will when they were both fourteen. Combine that with his awkwardness around public displays of affection, and Gwaine’s tendency to exaggerate his interest in someone, it’s the perfect way to get Arthur to feel as uncomfortable as possible. 

Merlin should probably feel worse about that than he does, but really, it’s payback for all the times Arthur intentionally made his life harder in the early days of their friendship. Revenge is a dish best served with Gwaine, apparently.

Training comes to an end roughly an hour later, and Merlin rushes through getting Arthur out of his armor. Normally he takes his time, it gives him and Arthur some guaranteed time to hang out like they did before Uther died, and Arthur was just a prince. Merlin can admit that he misses riding out to get into trouble with Arthur like they used to. Today, he doesn’t have the time. He has to talk to Gwaine before he loses his nerve.

Arthur watches him silently, but with a confused look on his face. After Merlin nearly drops the breastplate in his rush to get it on the table, Arthur sighs, and places his hand on Merlin’s shoulder to stop him in place.

“Somewhere you need to be, Merlin?”

“No.” Merlin replies automatically, then winces and says, “Yes.”

“Care to tell me where?”

“I needed to have a word with Gwaine.”

Arthur sighs and turns away, grumbling something like, “Of course it’s Gwaine.”

“Is there something wrong with him?” Merlin asks defensively, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Gwaine is a good and loyal knight.” Arthur says stiffly, “I just… I don’t want him to use you.”

Merlin softens a little. It’s really the exact opposite, in the end. He’s the one using Gwaine, and it makes him feel like he’s going to drown in the guilt. Gwaine is a good and loyal friend as well as knight. He deserves better than Merlin.

“He’s not. Trust me, I know Gwaine better than just about anyone. I know what it looks like when he’s just infatuated and it’ll burn off in a matter of a week. He’s still my friend, just more.” Merlin says reassuringly, “Thank you for worrying about me.”

“I only care because when you’re down, your service skills suffer even more than they already do.”

“Arthur.” Merlin says gently.

Arthur turns back around to face him, and the corner of his mouth pulls up into an understanding smile, and he inclines his head. It’s his way of admitting that he does care about what happens to Merlin. Arthur is his best friend, despite the distance.

“If the public displays make you uncomfortable, I could always put him in the stocks for you.” Arthur sounds just a tad hopeful at the prospect.

Merlin snorts, and lifts the chainmail over Arthur’s head, “I think it would just make _you_ feel better.”

“The happier I am, the happier you are.” Arthur points out.

“I’ll tell him to stop with lewd comments, shall I?”

“There’s an idea.”

Merlin shakes his head, finishes undressing Arthur, and heads off in search of Gwaine. None of the knights are still in the armory when he checks, so he goes to Gwaine’s chambers. Sure enough, Gwaine is there in a fresh shirt that doesn’t stink of sweat, just lounging on his bed. Everything he does has a certain flair to it, and Merlin has no idea how Gwaine can exude all that energy all the time and not keel over from exhaustion.

“Merlin!” Gwaine greets happily, “This is unexpected. I thought you’d still be with Arthur.”

“He let me off early so that I could have a word with you.”

Gwaine sits up properly, and fixes Merlin with an assessing gaze, “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like whatever it is you have to say?”

Merlin closes the door behind him, and leans against the wall next to it, eyes fixed on the stone floor of Gwaine’s room, “I think we should stop this.”

“Stop what?” Gwaine asks darkly.

Merlin shifts a little against the wall and glances up at Gwaine from under his lashes, “The fake courting. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I feel guilty about it. I’ve asked for a lot from you, and I’m worried if we keep going… if we keep going I might lose you as a friend, and I really don’t want that to happen.”

Gwaine crosses the room in a couple strides, and gently takes Merlin by the shoulders. He even ducks down a bit to try to meet Merlin’s eye line. His are dark and concerned, and that just makes Merlin feel guiltier for wanting to just keep playing along.

“Merlin, you are my first friend. I didn’t come to Camelot because I wanted to follow Arthur, I came because it meant I could be close to you. You aren’t going to lose me as a friend.”

Merlin nods, trying his hardest to believe that what Gwaine is saying is true, “I don’t want you to resent me for putting you in this position.”

“I won’t.” Gwaine swears, “But if it really bothers you, we can end it. I just need you to hold on one more month.”

Merlin’s head snaps up, and he stares at Gwaine in confusion, “Why one more month?”

“Elyan, Percival, and Leon all bet me that I wouldn’t be able to keep you longer than four months. If we keep this up for one more month, it will be past that deadline. I’ll even share the profits with you.”

“You bet on your relationship,” 

Gwaine shrugs, and grins sheepishly.

“Alright.” Merlin agrees on a sigh, “We can keep it up one more month, but you owe me half the money you make off this.”

“Sixty forty.”

“Fifty-five, forty-five.”

“Done.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Merlin informs him.

Gwaine just grins at that, and presses a rough kiss to Merlin’s lips, “You went along with it. That makes you at least as ridiculous as me.”

“No one is ridiculous as you.” Merlin defends.

They bicker back and forth for a few minutes more before he really does have to return to Arthur. The last thing he wants is more trouble caused by Arthur accusing him of slacking off to run around with Gwaine. He tries to tell himself that it’s fair this way, that they’re both getting something out of this. Gwaine will get money, and Merlin will get one more month of the easy affection that makes his head spin. 

It doesn’t actually help.

He feels like he’s paying Gwaine to be with him now, and that doesn’t sit well. He doesn’t regret telling Gwaine about his magic, but in some ways him knowing has made Merlin’s life ever more complicated. Merlin has gotten good at shoving away his own emotions over the years, but when the source of his confusion is in front of him practically every day, it makes it hard to ignore.

He completes his duties in silence, only occasionally responding when Arthur calls him out on being pensive. He’s lost deep in thought, that he doesn’t notice Lancelot until he almost walks right into him. Lancelot, who has apparently become attuned to Merlin’s shenanigans over the course of their friendship, takes one look at him, and steers him down the corridor into his chambers.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He says with no preamble.

Merlin groans loudly, and tosses himself onto his back on Lancelot’s bed, “Its Gwaine.”

“What about Gwaine?”

“We aren’t actually courting.” Merlin admits.

Lancelot sits next to him on the bed, and raises his eyebrows in ‘please explain’ gesture.

“We went on that quest a month ago, and I was going to take you because you know about the… y’know.” Merlin explains, “But you were on patrol, and I couldn’t take you. So I chose Gwaine because he was the least likely to run me through for it. Only somehow Arthur interpreted my request to mean that we were courting, and we decided to keep up the pretense when we got back so he could chase after me like you do.”

“What’s the problem, then?”

“He keeps kissing me, and hugging me.”

“Merlin, why is that an issue?”

“It… he… I…” he presses his lips together in annoyance. How can he explain to Lancelot, when he isn’t sure how he feels yet? He drags a hand over his face, “I feel like I’m using him.”

Lancelot smiles at him knowingly, and it makes Merlin frown. Nothing good has ever come out of people knowing something Merlin doesn’t. 

“Gwaine is choosing to be physical with you. He is reaching out of his own free will. There is nothing wrong with enjoying affection freely given.”

“If you say so.” Merlin agrees.

He’s still not sure that Lancelot is right.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Merlin slides Arthur and Gwen’s dinner tray onto the dining table with a little huff. He’s gotten a lot stronger since he started fetching and carrying for Arthur, but when he’s serving the both of them, it can still get heavy, especially if he’s already spent the day running around. He takes a second to shake out his arm, and then turns to get the water pitcher off the side table where he’d perched it precariously before. 

Gwen rests a gentle hand on her elbow, and smiles at him, “Thank you, Merlin. Unlike Arthur, I can actually serve myself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur says, face scrunched in that irritated way where one side of his face wrinkles more than the other.

Gwen smiles at Merlin mischievously, and pours both herself and Arthur some water before turning around, “I’m saying that without Merlin, you would lose your own head.”

“Now hang on,” Arthur says even as he accepts the cup, “I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”

“To be fair, Gwen was my friend before you could even remember her name properly.” Merlin says, joining in the teasing.

Gwen settles herself in the chair next to Arthur with a gentle smile in Arthur’s direction, “He does have a point.”

Arthur sighs and starts cutting into his chicken, “Is this the future I have to look forward too? My manservant and my wife teaming up against me.”

“Assuming Gwen loses her mind long enough to accept your proposal when it comes.” Merlin jokes, and ducks when Arthur hurls a spoon at his head.

Gwen buries her face in her napkin, trying to look perfectly innocent. It isn’t something they’ve discussed exactly, but Merlin has noticed that she’s been trying to remain his friend. They were each other’s closest confidants when Merlin came to Camelot, and it appears she’s also feeling the strain of new titles pressing down on them both. Merlin tries to make it easy for her, even if he isn’t entirely sure that she’ll be able to keep up their friendship when she officially becomes queen. 

Merlin leaves them to their meal, and their nausea inducing romantics, in favor of collecting Arthur’s laundry. He’s not in any sort of mood to do it, but the laundry is usually quiet at this time of night, and that means he won’t get any questions about Gwaine. Lord knows the servants gossip more than any of the old women back in Ealdor. 

The laundry is also a good place to avoid Gwaine. Despite what Lancelot said about not needing to feel guilty, Merlin can’t help it. His worries have gone beyond simply concern over losing Gwaine as a friend, they’ve advanced. There’s a running list in his brain of all the people in his life that he’s loved, and how many of them have died; Will, Freya, Morgana (in a way), Balinor. He can’t bear the thought of adding Gwaine to that list, he simply can’t. Gwaine’s death would be second only to Arthur’s, and it might not even a proper second place. It might be that they are more tied for first. 

Merlin has been trying to stay away. He doesn’t run when Gwaine approaches him as that would be silly, they are still friends after all, but he does his best not to be put in a position where he’s around Gwaine. Training is about the only time he’s seen Gwaine over the last week, and Merlin misses him terribly. Even before they started this ridiculous charade, he would go to the tavern with Gwaine every once in a while, or he would let Gwaine pester him while doing chores. 

Merlin misses him. Still, this is better than letting Gwaine get hurt because of him, emotionally or otherwise. He has to put some distance between the two of them before anything bad happens. Besides, if he starts drawing back now, it will make the possibility of the two of them breaking up seem far more plausible. They will have this month together, and then Merlin will go back to hovering on the edges of everything once more, like he’s meant to, and both he and Gwaine will come out of it a few coins richer than when they went in.

Merlin gathers the pile of Arthur’s laundry into his arms and curses himself silently for forgetting to grab the basket again. In defense of himself, he’s had one or two other things on his mind. Constantly. Since the day he arrived in Camelot. Remembering to bring the laundry basket is of rather low importance at the moment, or ever really. 

He balances the whole pile as best he can, and starts making his way to the doors to Arthur’s chambers. Gwen looks up from her plate as he passes by the table, and fixes him with an amused look before rising from her seat. She crosses over to him and holds her hands out to him expectantly.

“Give me some. You’ll drop it all otherwise.” She says kindly.

Merlin shakes his head, and tries to grin around the pile in his arms, “No. It’s alright, Gwen. I have it balanced.”

“If he says he has it, then he has it.” Arthur says, giving Merlin an annoyed glare, “Come sit down.”

Merlin isn’t sure what Arthur has to be bothered about, he’s the one that asked him to serve dinner in the first place. If he’d wanted his date to go smoothly, then he should have brought the trays up himself, or asked one of the unobtrusive maidservants to bring it up. They’re all terrified of him, though Merlin can’t fathom why. Arthur is a massive prat, but he isn’t about to go around lopping people’s heads off because they weren’t as respectful as they should be. If he was in the habit of that, Merlin would have lost his head a long time ago.

Gwen eyes him skeptically, but slowly returns to the table. She isn’t one to pressure anyone when they make it clear that her help is unneeded. Besides, she deserves to have a nice night with Arthur.

Of course, the second Merlin thinks that, is the second everything goes to hell. The warning bells ring out loudly, startling everyone in the room. Arthur glares at the ceiling accusingly, but hops to his feet. Merlin abandons the laundry to the floor, snatches Arthur’s sword from the side table, and tosses it to Arthur.

Arthur whips open his doors to find Leon already in the hall, preparing to burst into the room. He stumbles a bit in an attempt not to run into Arthur.

“Report.” Arthur says sharply.

“It’s the lower town, Sire. It’s flooded.” Leon reports.

“It wasn’t raining.” Arthur points out.

“No, Sire.”

“Sorcery.” Arthur says on a sigh, “And here I was thinking we’d have some down time. Leon, you’re on me. Merlin, find the other knights, tell them to meet me at the entrance to the lower town.”

Merlin nods, not bothering to give Arthur a proper indication of following his orders. He has a feeling he knows why this sorcerer is here, and he’s going to need all the help he can get if he wants to keep the ring from falling into the wrong hands. Damn sorcerers and their uncanny ability to make Merlin’s life more difficult than it needs to be. 

He takes off down the corridors at a run, and skids to a stop in the hall of the knights’ quarters. Elyan and Percival are already in standing there, strapping their sword belts on in preparation for the fight ahead. They look up at the sound of Merlin’s boots smacking on the stone floor of the castle.

“Arthur wants you to meet him at the entrance to the lower town,” Merlin gasps, “it’s been flooded.”

Percival claps him on the shoulder as he and Elyan run by, and Merlin makes a break for Gwaine’s quarters. He rips open the doors, and finds Gwaine hopping around on one foot, trying to tug his boot on. He manages to cram his foot inside before falling over, and turns to look at Merlin.

“Magic, isn’t it?” he asks, eyes serious.

Merlin nods grimly.

“Here for that ring we picked up?”

“Probably.”

“Alright.” Gwaine says cheerily and picks up his sword, “Lancelot and I have your back.”

“Thank you.” Merlin says gratefully, and they rush out.

Lancelot is already waiting for them, and together they run from the knights’ quarters. Outside, clouds cover the sky, throwing the torches into sharp relief. The rain comes bucketing down, and Merlin is soaked to the skin within seconds. Next to him, Gwaine and Lancelot aren’t fairing any better. The water from the lower town is steadily creeping its way towards the castle, moving along like an inch worm. Nothing about it is natural.

“Go find Arthur, and make sure he doesn’t see me until it’s all over!” Merlin shouts over the rain.

Lancelot claps him on the shoulder, and takes off running, feet slipping on the slick cobblestone. Gwaine hesitates a moment, then darts back in to press a kiss to Merlin’s forehead. 

“Don’t do anything stupid.” He says gruffly.

“Me?” Merlin asks with a grin, and Gwaine grins back, shaking his head. After this, Merlin has no doubt that Gwaine and Lancelot are going to have weekly tavern nights to discuss the various shenanigans they get involved in when trying to keep his secret safe. 

He scans he courtyard, wiping the rain from his eye when it gets to be too much. He can see the knights being forced back by the steady crawl of water, their buckets and swords useless against an enemy that reforms as fast as the rain falls. Arthur is up front, dragging bucket after bucket out of the encroaching puddle, but not making any more headway than the men around him. 

Merlin whispers a spell under his breath, searching for the source of the enchantment. His magic spills free of him, wending its way through the air, trailing along the strings of magic in the air. The foreign magic feels gritty against the spell, and Merlin struggles to keep the spell going. He forces himself passed the sensation of chafing sand, and his magic reaches his target. 

His eyes snap open, and he finds them. There’s a person half hidden behind a column in the courtyard, hood drawn up over their head. Merlin can see a faint glow through the rain as the person’s eyes flare gold in the dark. Without giving himself time to think, Merlin dashes across the courtyard. His feet slip against the slick stone just as Lancelot’s did, but he manages to keep himself upright for once in his life. The rain half blinds him as he moves, but he flings himself at the other sorcerer.

They both hit the ground, and stars burst behind Merlin’s eyes. The wind is forced from his lungs, but he doesn’t get time to recover. Apparently deciding to forgo using magic in this close proximity, the hooded sorcerer aims a punch at Merlin’s face and he rolls out of the way at the last second. The hooded sorcerer’s hand crashes into the stone, and Merlin can here the crack even with the rain still crashing down around him. 

“Stop this!” Merlin shouts, “There’s nothing for you here! Just go!”

The hooded sorcerer rolls to their feet, and just like that, Merlin recognizes them.

“You! You sent me to get that ring for you!” Merlin accuses, “Why would you do that?”

“Because I knew you would fall for it, Emrys.” They say and fling another spell into the air with a vicious smile. The rain comes down harder than it did before, and there’s a mighty roar from the direction of the puddle. Merlin glances back over his shoulder, and the puddle towers nearly as tall as Arthur’s bedroom window, more a wave than a puddle. 

He draws magic forward again, and throws up a wall. It’s clumsy, and a lot of the water splashes over the top, but it keeps anyone from being swept away. Merlin strains against the pressure of the water, his magic may be doing most of the work, but it’s still a physical extension of himself. He grits his teeth, and leans into it, forcing the wall to stay put by sheer will power.

There’s a sharp crack and pain blossoms on the back of his head. His concentration slips on the spell, and the wave cracks through the defenses, spilling over the top in a cascade. He scrambles to throw the wall back up, but his heart isn’t in it as they hooded sorcerer tries to come at Merlin again with whatever improvised weapon they managed to scrounge up. Merlin throws a shield around himself as well, but it’s weakened by his concentration on the wall keeping the water at bay. He can feel magic slipping around both as he struggles to maintain them.

He can hear Arthur bellowing orders, trying to get his knights to scoop away some of the water while its held back. Still the rain pours down around them, and the hooded sorcerer’s assault cracks against Merlin’s shield. Then, like a hero out of a tale, Gwaine appears in Merlin’s field of vision, lashing out at the hooded sorcerer with his sword.

“Get to Arthur! Go!” he yells, and Merlin hesitates only a second before sprinting across the courtyard, hand outstretched.

He’s nearly at Arthur’s side when something else knocks into him. He goes to his knees on the ground, sucking in a pained breath, and his concentration slips once more. He hears Arthur shout something, and he thinks he catches the word idiot, but he can’t pay attention to that. Gwaine must not be doing as good a job of keeping the hooded sorcerer distracted as he hoped, because the wall of water grows again, threatening to come crashing down on them all. 

Merlin staggers to his feet, shaking off Arthur’s hand as it tries to pull him down, and back. He takes a deep breath, then plunges into the wave itself. The water prickles at his skin, cold and unnatural, and for a moment, Merlin worries he won’t be able to do what he needs to. The world is curiously quiet around him, but he fights back the terror, and pushes. He forces the water away, up and out, and down into the aqueduct below Camelot. He forces the rain back up into the sky, forces it back into clouds that will once more rain naturally.

The wave of water dissipates around him, and he hauls in a burst of air, desperate for it after nearly drowning to get this done. He has time to see Arthur’s face; shocked, worried, angry. Then the world goes black, and he feels his knees buckle underneath him. The freezing cobblestone against his cheek is the last thing he knows for a long time.

*

“How is he Gaius?” the voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, but it’s familiar too, despite the fuzziness. Merlin struggles towards it, trying to force his way out of the dark. He knows that voice, and it sounds worried.

“He expended quite a lot of energy that night, Sire.” Comes another familiar voice, this one older, “I don’t quite know how much rest he will need.”

There’s silence for a few moments, then there’s a creak Merlin can’t place. He feels someone take his hand in theirs, but he feels it abstractly, like it isn’t quite his own body. The hand squeezes his, and the first worried voice floats back through his consciousness, “Wake up, you idiot. I can hardly yell at you when you’re like this.”

Merlin struggles to make himself open his eyes. If he can just open his eyes, then maybe the voice won’t be so worried about him, but he’s tired. So tired. He wants to sink back into that blackness. He focuses on his hand instead, and it feels like he’s dragging all the energy he has from deep inside of him in order to squeeze that hand back.

“Merlin? Can you hear me?” the voice asks, suddenly frantic, “Gaius! He squeezed my hand!”

Something, fingers Merlin thinks absently, come to rest against his neck. They stay there for what seems like a very long time, before removing themselves. “His pulse is much stronger today. I wouldn’t be surprised if we woke up properly soon, especially if he’s squeezing your hand.”

Merlin tries to squeeze again, but it feels heavy and far away. The blackness starts to creep in around him again, warm and safe, and Merlin relents. He’ll be back here soon, and maybe he’ll be able to open his eyes this time.

*

The water is closing in around him. It’s cold, colder than ice or snow melt, it burns his skin where it touches him. He can’t tell which way is up, which way is down. His lungs burn for air that he cannot take in without dragging water into him where it doesn’t belong. He thrashes, desperately trying to find his way out, and his magic fails him. It can’t dispel this much, not without tearing him apart. He’s drowning. There’s nothing he can do.

“Merlin!” a voice shouts, and Merlin kicks his way towards it, praying that it’s his salvation from a watery grave. 

He hears his name again, and the water seems to pulse with light. Is it sunshine? It might be the surface.

Merlin sits bolt upright in bed, gasping and choking on air. Around him he can hear voices shouting, but he keeps gasping, forcing air into lungs that were empty for too long. He’s taking in so much air that he can’t breathe, but he can’t make himself stop.

A familiar face fills his vision, and two hands come up to rest on his cheeks, “You’re alright! You’re in Gaius’s chambers!”

Merlin swallows, panic ebbing away, but leaving him sweaty, “Arthur?”

Arthur sighs and drops his hands to Merlin’s shoulders, looking almost as shaken as Merlin himself, “Only you could make such a fuss waking up from a nap.”

“A nap?” Merlin asks, raising one shaking hand to push the sweaty hair away from his forehead.

“After your little… display in the courtyard, you passed out.” Arthur answers, “You’ve been out nearly a week.”

Merlin winces, meeting Arthur’s eyes nervously, “Saw that, did you?”

“It was rather hard to miss.” Arthur responds with exasperation.

Gaius appears next, passing Merlin a cup of broth with herbs. It tastes awful, but he knows better than to question one of Gaius’s remedies, he drinks the whole thing in steady sips, and admittedly does feel a bit better after. His hands don’t shake nearly as much, and some of the fuzziness recedes from his head. He feels human, and less like a drowned corpse.

“How much trouble am I in?” Merlin asks softly once Gaius takes the cup away.

Arthur sits back in his chair, and for the first time Merlin notices how exhausted he looks. He has dark circles under his eyes, and the beginnings of scruff on his jaw. He must have really been worried, Arthur is religious about shaving. 

“Depends on the balance of lies to lives saved.” Arthur says finally, “I may be oblivious, but I’m not an idiot. Only someone who’s practiced magic for years could do what you did that night, and if you’ve been at my side all this time, then I suspect this wasn’t the first time you’ve saved my life with your abilities.”

Abilities. Arthur used the words abilities. It may not be as positive as if he used something like the word gifts, but neither is he accusing Merlin of being corrupted. He’ll take it.

“It’s not.” He admits.

“Tell me.”

“May take some time.”

“I’ve already waited a week. I think I can be patient long enough to tell me the whole story.”

Merlin snorts and sends Arthur an amused look, “You’ve never been patient about anything in your life.”

“I am not in the mood for teasing, Merlin.” Arthur says darkly.

“Sorry.” Merlin mumbles, “Force of habit. Where do you want me to start?”

“From the time you learned magic.”

“I was born with it.”

That’s how they spend the next few days. Merlin recounts as many of the adventures he’s gone on to protect Arthur as he can, only stopping when he can’t keep his eyes open any longer and Gaius forces him to rest. He dances around the details of how he picked up the ring, not wanting to drag Gwaine into this, but makes sure to include how he was fooled. Arthur takes it in stoic silence. He doesn’t seem angry, but neither does he seem pleased. The biggest sticking point seems to be the lies. After everything with Morgana, what Merlin has done sways dangerously close to betrayal. 

On the third day, the door to Gaius’s chambers swings open shortly after Arthur settles in for their usual talk. Merlin would recognize Gwaine’s gait anywhere, even without having to turn and look at him. 

“Gaius said you were finally ready for visitors!” he calls out cheerfully, and drops onto the bed next to Merlin.

Merlin goes when Gwaine tugs, and winds up tucked under his arm. He doesn’t try to fight it. He feels safe like this, stronger than he has since he plunged into that wave. Gwaine has made it clear he’s on Merlin’s side come hell or high water. Ironic, considering. 

“Still not very good company.” Merlin admits, “I’ll probably fall asleep on you in a few minutes.”

“That’s alright. I have to go to training soon anyway. Leon has been running us ragged while Arthur here sits at your bedside all day waiting for you to recover.”

“Was it really every day?” Merlin asks, directing the question to Arthur.

Arthur’s shoulders tense a little, “You’re my friend.” He says like that’s any explanation.

Gwaine presses a kiss to Merlin’s hair, and Merlin blinks sleepily up at him. He’s been feeling stronger every day, but there are still moments when it feels like he has no magic left and is just an empty shell. Gwaine supports him, thumb stroking against Merlin’s shoulder. 

“We’ve all been worried about you. You took some fall, and we thought you’d drowned before Gaius assured us you were alright.” 

“Sorry.” Merlin says with a little twist of his mouth. He hadn’t wanted to scare anyone, he just wanted to keep them safe. 

“What can we expect from you, eh?” Gwaine jokes, “You’re always charging in after us.”

“Someone has to keep you lot from impaling yourselves on your own swords.”

Gwaine laughs and dips down to press a kiss to the corner of Merlin’s mouth. Merlin’s heart does that strange little flutter that he noticed before, and he remembers. He has to deal with this now. He has to figure out what to do with Gwaine, on top of placating Arthur. He almost wishes he had actually drowned that night in the wall of water. Life would be so much simpler that way. Merlin sags further, thoroughly rung out.

Something like sympathy flashes across Arthur’s eyes, and he stands, “I think I’ll join you for training today since Merlin is well enough for visitors. I’ll meet you there.”

With one last kiss and an eyebrow wriggle, Gwaine hops off the bed once more. It leaves Merlin alone with Arthur again. His face is very serious when he turns.

“You should tell him. He deserves to know if you two are going to continue courting.”

“What?” Merlin asks blankly. Tell Gwaine what? Everyone must have seen what happened that night.

“Only Lancelot and I were facing the wave when you dispersed it. I told everyone you got swept in just before Gwaine killed the sorcerer.” Arthur explains, “I thought it better that I not be influenced by anyone else’s judgement before deciding what to do.”

“Have you? Decided, I mean.”

Arthur shakes his head, corner of his mouth quirking up in a fond manner, “I have a feeling that a lot of changes will be coming our way in the near future.”

Merlin smiles back hesitantly, and nods, “Thank you, Arthur.”

“Least I can do, given how many times you’ve saved me.” Arthur says, and pauses on his way out the door, “Tell Gwaine. God help us, but he’s gone on you. He deserves an explanation.”

The door falls shut behind him, and Merlin settles back into bed. He isn’t sure what Arthur meant by being gone on him, Gwaine is a good actor but he isn’t that good. Merlin does know two things, however. The first thing, Arthur can never know that Gwaine knew before him. The second, Arthur can never know he and Gwaine faked this whole thing to keep Merlin out of suspicion. Arthur’s never taken well to being the last to learn about something.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

For all that Merlin has given Arthur a difficult time about taking the time to recover from an injury, it turns out he wasn’t exaggerating as much about how boring bedrest is as merlin thought. He feels much better after his last discussion with Arthur, even with cryptic ‘he deserves to know’, but Gaius won’t even let him up to do something as easy as grind herbs. He tries to read the medical texts that he’s handed, but they turn out to be more boring than the bedrest is. It doesn’t stop him from trying to muscle through them, just for something to do, but he usually only gets a few pages in before it starts sending him to sleep. He becomes intimately familiar with the walls of Gaius’s chambers; the crack on the east wall from one of the many battles that have been waged in Camelot over the years, a mysterious stain that Merlin has a sneaking suspicion might actually be his fault, the lute that sits on the stairs up to his room that he’s never seen anyone touch and is covered in dust.

Bedrest may not be literally fatally boring, but it certainly feels like it. He makes a mental note to himself to be kinder to the knights when they have to take it. Though, he’s been handling it much better than any of them ever had. For one thing, Merlin hasn’t tried to hop out of bed and go for a run just for the fun of it. No, he’s smart enough to actually listen to Gaius, because is the court physician and he knows best. It has nothing at all to do with the fact that Merlin ends up crashing for several hours if he walk further than Gaius’s workbench for meals. 

The one thing that makes this all bearable, is that he’s allowed visitors now that he’s well enough. He didn’t expect any, if he was honest. No doubt Arthur has finally told Merlin’s story to the knights, but they all show up. Percival brings cards or dice when he can, and they spend several afternoons driving Gaius mad with all the carrying on. Percival’s only response to Merlin’s magic is a little smile, and “I’m only scared of magic if it’s in the hands of someone who wants to hurt me. I know you well enough to know that you would never _want_ to hurt people even if you have to keep Arthur safe.”

Things are a little stiffer with Leon and Elyan. They both grew up in Camelot at the height of the purge, and they are far more nervous about magic than the others. The very fact that they show up to check in on Merlin at all is proof enough that they are trying to trust him. Gwen brings him tarts form a vendor in the lower town, and shares gossip with him when she can find time away from her duties. She’s the first one to thank Merlin for all he’s done to protect them. 

The person who really makes bedrest bearable is Gwaine. He shows up just after breakfast and stays until he has to leave for training, but comes back right after. A few times he even showed up still in his chainmail, until Gaius told him it was unsanitary to have all that dirt and sweat in a physician’s quarters. Since then, Gwaine takes the time to stop to change into clothes before coming.

He takes up residence on Merlin’s bed, always on the left side at the foot. He’s there so often over the days that Merlin starts mentally referring to it as Gwaine’s spot. His guilt about his feelings doesn’t overwhelm him in moments like these like he thought they would. He’s able to convince himself that Gwaine would be here regardless of his fake romance with Merlin because friends visit friends when they’re ill. The one time Gwaine caught sweating sickness, Merlin was here nearly every day to take care of him. Granted, he was acting as Gaius’s assistant, but he would have been there anyway. Even Arthur had showed up a few times, claiming that the brotherhood of knights meant more than any petty disagreement between them. Merlin thinks that Arthur and Gwaine secretly like each other, even if they won’t admit it.

“And then I knocked him on his ass.” Gwaine says, finishing up the story that he’s telling.

Merlin laughs and shakes his head, “I was there for that. You knocked him on his ass because I dropped a branch on his friends and he was distracted.”

“You can’t take credit for all of my wins!” Gwaine says indignantly and kicks Merlin’s leg lightly. 

“Not all of them. You’ve all won your tourneys fair and square. The only help any of you have ever gotten from me on that was if someone was cheating, otherwise those victories are all yours.”

“How gracious of you, Lord Merlin.”

Merlin groans loud and long, “Do you have to bring it up?”

“Arthur’s made you court sorcerer,” Gwaine says solemnly, but his eyes hold an evil twinkle, “I’m afraid I must address you by the proper title.”

“You don’t even address Arthur by the proper title.” Merlin complains.

“But refusing him to call him by his title annoys him, just as calling you by yours annoys you.”

“So you admit that you’re trying to be annoying.”

“I never denied it.”

Merlin reaches behind his back, and whacks Gwaine with the pillow he grabs. It hits with a satisfying thump, and Gwaine sits there blinking for several long seconds, like he can’t believe Merlin actually did that. Then he gets that grin on his face that he got when he convinced Merlin to help steal chicken. Merlin realizes he’s in trouble a second too late.

Gwaine dives across the bed, shouting, “You little miscreant”, and Merlin doesn’t have time to move before he’s pulled in tight to Gwaine’s chest with Gwaine’s knuckles in his hair. Seriously, what is with the knights and showing affection through roughhousing? 

“Get off!” Merlin shouts back, but he’s laughing. It bubbles up out of his chest unbidden, bright and joyful. Gwaine’s arms are warm through the thin fabric of his tunic, and Merlin lets himself sag just for a moment. He’s exhausted still, and without constantly being up and about, he’s been a bit lonely. He lets himself be weak, just for a moment, lets himself enjoy the feeling of Gwaine holding him like he did when they were out riding to the caves to fetch that dammed ring. He won’t get to keep feeling this when he and Gwaine call off their courtship, and he just wants to hold onto it a little longer.

Gwaine stops ruffling Merlin’s hair, and they sit tangled together on Merlin’s bed for a few minutes. Gwaine’s face is pressed into his hair, like he wants to hold onto Merlin as well. Or maybe that’s just Merlin’s wishful thinking. Either way, it’s nice. He feels like he’s soaking up some of Gwaine’s strength just by being with him like this.

The moment is promptly spoiled by the doors to Gaius’s chambers swinging open, and Gaius himself shuffling inside. He casts a disapproving look at their position, and coughs less than politely, “I hope you’re not intending to do anything untoward with my patient on bedrest, Gwaine.”

Gwaine releases Merlin, rolling his eyes playfully, and stands. He sends Gaius a grin that does nothing to convince him that Gwaine is innocent, and says, “Nothing untoward, Gaius. Just some harmless handholding.”

Gaius hums, squinting at Gwaine suspiciously. Gwaine flashes Merlin an amused grin, assures him that he’ll be back tomorrow, and exits. With Gwaine gone, the burst of energy Merlin felt fades away, and he slinks back down in bed, lonely and irritated. He wants to feel better than he does. He’s tired of being tired, he wants to go back to running around after the knights and getting into trouble. As of sensing his thoughts, Gaius shuffles over, and pushes some hair from Merlin’s forehead in a fatherly gesture.

“I won’t be forever, my boy.” He says gently.

Merlin sighs and nods, “It just doesn’t feel like I should be so exhausted. I’ve done bigger magic before. I mean, you were there for the fight with Nimueh.” 

Gaius lowers himself into the chair by Merlin’s bed, and leans forward to express whatever he is about to say, “You didn’t just bring lightning from the sky, Merlin. You kept a wave of water as large as the castle itself at bay while fighting off another powerful sorcerer, and then you dissolved that same wall of water. Not just dissolved, but reversed the very cycle of rain. You made it rain toward the sky, made the rain form back into clouds. No one else could have done what you did, and it makes sense that you’re drained. It won’t be forever, just give it time.”

Merlin’s eyes feel heavy suddenly, like now that they’ve been given permission to rest, they can’t possibly stay open. Gaius smiles at him knowingly, and pats his shoulder, and levers himself out of the chair with a soft grunt. As Merlin starts to slide back into the promise of sleep, he wonders if he can invent a spell that can help Gaius get in and out of the chairs without his knees creaking under the strain. A few half formed phrases get jumbled in his mind, but he hasn’t the energy to sort them out. He falls asleep with the promise that someday soon he won’t be so tired.

As he wakes, he becomes aware of a weight next to him on the bed. It isn’t large enough to be another person, but it isn’t the right shape to be a book. Not yet ready to open his eyes and lose the comfortable peace he’s in, he reaches out, patting the mattress wildly until he feels it. Whatever the weight is, it’s warm, and silky. He hears a sound that could vaguely be a purr, and he smiles to himself. A cat then. He shifts onto his side to make it easier to pet it, and cards his fingers through the silky strands of its fur. 

Gaius doesn’t let cats into his chambers. The one time a stray wandered in because Merlin accidentally left the door open, Gaius had shouted himself hoarse. Apparently cats had a tendency to knock valuable bottles of ingredients off shelves, and shed in the pots of salve when they’re airing.

Merlin’s eyes snap open, and he’s met with Gwaine’s smiling face. He looks half asleep as well, eyes half lidded, and grin softer than Merlin has ever seen it. He looks very handsome like that, and Merlin snatches his hand back like he’s been burned. He’s never been one to blush before, but he’s been caught out, and he can feel a flush threatening to spread across his cheeks.

“What are you doing here?” he whispers, mindful of Gaius still asleep this early in the morning.

Gwaine doesn’t move his from Merlin’s mattress when he answers, “Came by to check on you after dinner, and Gaius said you fell asleep almost as soon as I left. I was worried about you, and Gaius told me I could stay to keep an eye on you.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Merlin says, trying to get his traitorous heart to stop thumping quite so hard against his chest.

“You’re my friend, Merlin.” Gwaine whispers back, like it’s obvious.

And, oh, how unfair it is that Gwaine chooses this moment to be so sincere. Merlin has never felt more cared for than he does in this moment, and of course destiny cannot let him have anything. Not without a price. Magic allowed in Camelot at last, for the price of these precious moments with Gwaine. He can’t in good conscious keep this up, can’t keep letting Gwaine pretend when Merlin is in it for real. It isn’t fair to Gwaine. 

“I’m sorry.” Merlin whispers miserably.

Gwaine’s brow crinkles with confusion, and he raises one hand to tangle with Merlin’s, “Sorry for what?”

“Don’t tell Gaius, he warned me this was a bad idea and I couldn’t take it if he gloats like he sometimes does.”

“Merlin, just tell me.”

“I love you.” Merlin whispers, staring at their joined hands, “Not just for the story we decided to let Arthur believe. I know that’s not what we agreed to, but it happened, and I just… please still be my friend after this, Gwaine. You’re the first person I’ve ever told about my magic, everyone else just found out, and I would hate it if you weren’t my friend anymore. Why are you laughing?”

“I’m laughing because Arthur is right, you are an idiot.”

Merlin tries to pull his hand free of Gwaine’s grip, pretending that the words don’t sting, “He was bound to be right about something I suppose.”

“There was no bet.” Gwaine says, squeezing Merlin’s hand tight, “I never made a bet with Elyan, Percival, or Leon.”

Merlin stares at him blankly, trying to process exactly what Gwaine is saying. He’s missing something, and because he’s still half asleep, he can’t seem to figure out that missing piece. So he finally frowns and asks, “What?”

“Merlin, I’ve been waiting for you to notice me since we first met in that tavern. I hoped that one day, you would get far enough from Arthur to breathe, and that maybe if I was in the right place at the right time, you would realize I was there. I made up the bet because I wanted more time like this; you and me.”

Merlin huffs a little laugh, smile spreading across his face, “Really?”

“I really wasn’t all that interested in being a knight, you know. I only stayed because I knew I would get to be near you. Arthur may have won me over eventually, but my loyalty to him is because he earned yours first.” Gwaine insists.

“So you love me too.”

“I do. May take me some time to actually say it aloud, but I do.”

Merlin surges forward, and presses his lips to Gwaine’s. It isn’t the best kiss he’s ever had, because they’re both grinning so widely it makes it nearly impossible to line up properly, but the thrill comes from knowing they can try again later, and again after that, and again after that, for as long as they both want. Strength and Magic united.


End file.
